


Loose Ends

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Canon, Drama, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-11-17
Updated: 2004-12-08
Packaged: 2018-12-26 20:54:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 50,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12066810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: While a still unstable Melanie hides with her children in Europe, Brian and Justin use all their resources to find them.  FollowsWild Shores.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

“So you are telling me that there’s nothing I can do?” 

 

Brian stares at me with an expression I haven’t seen on his face so far. He was angry, outraged, amused, downright playful, but never – helpless. But that’s what I see now and I don’t like it. Justin sits by his side and watches his partner with growing concern. They’re a really beautiful couple, and I don’t say that lightly. But God, to see them step into my office warm shivers were running down my back. Not that I’d ever tell them, mind. Justin, of course, would be a tad young for me, but I wouldn’t push Brian from my bed. Too bad he’s gay. I laugh inwardly, I’m surely not the first woman to think that. No wonder Melanie Marcus was always so jealous. 

 

Forcing myself back to the matter at hand I sigh, and wish I could tell him something more hopeful. “Melanie is the official parent, Brian. You have no rights whatsoever. There’s nothing the police can do for you. Melanie has every right to take the children wherever she wants.”

 

“Fuck!” he exclaims, punching a fist into the back of the chair he’d been sitting on before, just the way I expected him to. His emotions, even though he likes to hide it, run close to the surface. 

 

“Brian-“ Justin tries to touch him, but the older man shakes him off. 

 

“I don’t even know where they went,” Brian says, turning back to me. “I hired a PI, but so far nothing. Any ideas, Fiona?”

 

I think about it for a moment, then reach for the phone. Punching in the number from memory, I keep my eyes on Brian. “Maybe … Hey, Gorgie, darling. It’s Fiona. … I know, I know it’s been a while. … Yes, I’m sorry. … We have to do that. Soon. Listen, sweetie, I might have a client for you. The case is a bit tricky. When can you see him? … Hmmm … Excellent. Alright. Give me a call.” Putting down the phone, I quickly write down a number and address and hand it to Brian.

 

He takes it with a raised brow, “Former lover?”

 

“None of your business,” I quip. “Her name is Georgiana St. John. She’s the best PI for a case like this. She’ll see you in an hour.” His second brow comes up and I shrug, “I realize this is important for you, so I made it urgent.” Gorgie and I know each other so well, she can tell from the sound of my voice if things are important. And this certainly is. I have no idea where Melanie took the kids, but I have a bad feeling. A very bad feeling. The woman isn’t predictable at all. The one time I saw her in court, I was trying to decide if she was really such a bitch or if she was simply insane. 

 

“Thanks,” Brian says, reading the address and pushing the piece of paper into his pocket. “How about suing for custody?” He asks the question as if he’s got a really bad taste in his mouth, and that’s probably just how he feels. Custody cases are never easy, and I always try to get the parties to at least talk to each other, for the children’s sake if nothing else. With Melanie Marcus, however, I feel the faster the kids are away from her influence the better. 

 

“We’ll proceed if you want. With Melanie absent our chances are even better to at least gain part-custody. But it’ll need time, it’s not going to happen overnight.” Brian never was the type for sugar-coating, and I’m not going to start now. 

 

“I want,” he says firmly after exchanging a look with his lover. Justin, for all his youth, seems very mature and I like seeing them interact like this. “Do it.” 

 

Nodding, I pull out the file and summon Garret to join us. “He will do most of the background work,” I explain at Brian’s questioning gaze. The door opens and Garret enters, dressed impeccably as always in an expensive designer suit that has nothing on Brian’s. He’s dark, tall, and handsome, and thoroughly gay. Justin’s eyes come to rest on him, wander back to Brian, then back to Garret, a speculative gleam entering his eyes. He says nothing, though.

 

Garret holds out his hand, “Brian. Nice to see you again.”

 

“Sorry, but I can’t quite share the feeling.” Nevertheless he shakes Garret’s hand, and I almost miss the surprise in Justin’s eyes at their interaction. But I can see he’s definitely pleased. It makes we wonder what kind of past they share. When I was told that Brian Kinney was interested in legal counsel, all I heard was that he was living in a relationship with a man who was a lot younger. Seeing Justin, I’m not sure the description really fits. 

 

Garret’s gaze turns to me with a question, and I nod at the file on my desk, “Brian has decided to proceed with the matter we discussed during our last meeting.”

 

“I see,” Garret picks up the file, then finally notices Justin. I almost snicker. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you at first.” Didn’t see him my ass. More like trying his best to ignore the blond. Garret is just so predictable, it’s not even funny anymore. “Nice to meet you.”

 

Justin gives him a ‘yeah, sure’, look but shakes hands nevertheless. “I’m Justin Taylor.”

 

“He’s my … partner,” Brian explains after only a very short hesitation. “Justin, this is Garret Davison.”

 

Garret’s eyes run assessing over Justin, before he turns back to me. “I’ll get it going then?” 

 

I have to bite my lip not to laugh at him aloud. Poor Garret. He’s completely infatuated with Brian, and there’s no chance on earth that they’ll ever get together. “Yes, do that please.” He leaves and Justin gives me a look I can’t quite read. “What?”

 

“Nothing,” he shrugs, “just that he’s so openly gay.”

 

I have to grin. I really start to like the boy. “Do you have a problem with it?”

 

He laughs, and Brian joins in. “Of course not. But I’m surprised. I didn’t expect someone as openly gay as Garret working in a law practice like this.”

 

I nod, understanding what he’s getting at. “We have a policy to hire the best. Whether they are gay or not is none of our business. And we make it clear to the clients that it’s not negotiable.” I take a deep breath. “Alright. I’ve got the case rolling. And you have an appointment in …,” I glance at my watch, “exactly 40 minutes. You have a 30 minutes drive.”

 

Brian laughs and holds up his hands, “I get the hint. Thanks for seeing us on such short notice.” I get up and we shake hands. Then I repeat it with Justin. I watch them leave and purse my lips. They have a tough road ahead of them. But I have a feeling they already know.

 

*****

 

I see Michael and Emmett sit in their usually booth and after a moment’s hesitation, I take the deepest breath I can remember ever taking and walk over to them. “Hi.”

 

Michael stiffens slightly, but does his best to ignore my presence, while Emmett’s gaze quickly comes up. “Teddy.” He says it in that voice that tells me exactly how he feels about me. That I’m shit. Believe me, I know. I feel like shit, too. Ever since I realized that Mel took the money to run away with the kids I feel like the lowest of the lowest. I mean, Brian’s never been one of my favorites, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t lost the ability to see what’s right and what’s wrong.

 

“Look who dares to show his face around here. Theodore Schmidt.”

 

Debbie. Leave it to her to say aloud what others think. “Debbie.” She looks at me with brows raised and heavy accusations in her eyes, and I sigh, “I’m sorry, okay. I know I fucked up. I should’ve at least asked why she needed the money.”

 

“Yes, you should have,” she agrees, her eyes not softening. Nope, I’m not forgiven yet, and I wonder if it’ll happen any time soon. “Thanks to your money, Brian doesn’t even know where they are.”

 

“Have you any idea what he’s going through?” That from Michael. No surprise there, where Brian is concerned it’s not about choosing sides. He’ll always back up Brian, no matter what. “He even hired a PI but nothing turned up.” He puts his fork down and stares accusingly up at me, “For all we know they could be dead.”

 

Sure, just kill me. “Mel wouldn’t hurt her children,” I try to argue, even though I don’t feel there’s anything to argue about. But I’m still sure that whatever Mel’s up to, the kids will be safe.

 

“She slapped Gus already.” Emmett hasn’t softened either. I’m not sure why, but I have a feeling he takes the whole thing very personal. I’d like to find out what happened, but I know that for a while at least he won’t tell me anything.

 

Then his words sink in, “She did what?” I can’t believe it. Mel would never –

 

“He told me himself. Just last week, when I was watching him at Brian’s. He was really upset about it.” There are days when I think Emmett is nothing but a little boy himself, but unfortunately today’s not one of them. He looks dead serious. He has that look in his eyes, like the night we broke up. I had fucked up, the way I seem to do often lately, and fucked around on him. Call it mid-life crisis or whatever. The fact is, I was meeting with this group of guys who got up on fucking through whole nights. After about three months, Em found out. The look in his eyes was the same I see now, and it frightens me. Because we needed months afterward to get our friendship back on track. 

 

“It’s not as if I told her to pack up the kids and leave,” I try a new defensive tactic. “Initially I offered her the money to fight Brian’s kick-ass lawyer.”

 

“As if that isn’t bad enough already.” Michael gives me the evil eye. “Friends should stay out of their friends’ trouble.” And he’s just the man to say it. 

 

“Oh please,” I snorted. “If this was the other way around you’d do everything-“

 

“But it isn’t the other way around,” Emmett interrupts. “Is it?” 

 

Oh sure, make me feel even worse. “Look, I’m really sorry. Can’t we just … I don’t know, forget about it and instead try to think how we can help?”

 

“Now,” Debbie puts a hand on my shoulder. It’s heavy and a little meaty, but it feels strangely comforting, too. I can’t remember when my mother did something like that the last time, if ever. There are times when I wish she was someone I could confide in, but she isn’t, and I know she’ll never be. It was hard enough for her to accept that I was gay. I tried to hide it forever, but then she found those magazines underneath my bed. 

 

“Teddy,” Deb goes on, “this might be the first good thing you said today. Stop apologizing. You can’t change things anyway. But maybe we can really do something to help Brian and Justin. I never thought I would, but I really feel bad for them. Just when it seemed as if the shit would slowly fade, it returns and smacks them right into their faces.”

 

Emmett leans back and purses his lips, “What do you have in mind?” 

 

“I … I don’t know,” I stammer, feeling a little overwhelmed. It’s okay trying to right your wrongs, but let’s be honest here, I’m not Mr. Genius here. I might be good with numbers and money, but I’m no born leader. And thinking of it, none of the others are either. 

 

“Well, that’s promising,” Em says with a sarcastic snort, and continues eating his pancakes. 

 

“You could offer Brian money, too,” Michael suggests, our resident smart-brain. As if Brian would take money from me. Besides, he really doesn’t need it. 

 

“We could go and search the house,” I think aloud, then want to clamp a hand over my mouth. Fuck. I’m so not into becoming a criminal by entering someone’s house without permission.

 

“What house?” Emmett asks around a bite. 

 

“Mel’s house,” Michael says, watching me with interest. Of course he would jump on the idea – if figures. “You know, Ted, that’s actually a good idea.”

 

“Maybe there’s still hope for you,” Deb gives me an approving smile. 

 

“Great,” I mutter, wishing they wouldn’t smile at me the way they do. Shit. What have I gotten myself into again?

 

*****

 

Georgiana St. John is nothing I expected. When Fiona told us she was a PI, I expected someone like a buff lesbian type, but Georgie, how she wants us to call her, is a petite read head with a pixie nose and startling blue eyes. Brian rises a brow as he shakes hands with her and asks, “Irish?”

 

She grins at him, “No, Scottish.”

 

“Ah.” Brian nods knowingly. What is it with these Irish and Scottish types? Everything they see someone from their “clan” it’s as if they’re meeting family. 

 

Feeling a little left out I clear my throat, “Fiona told us, you could help.”

 

“Well,” Georgie staples her fingers on her desk and looks at us with serious eyes. “We’ll see. Fiona didn’t tell me what this is all about.” That’s when I notice the gold band on third finger of her left hand. Married? I wonder. 

 

Brian gives her the short version of the problems with Mel, and ends by saying, “I told Fiona to go ahead with the custody suit.” He says it nonchalantly, as it there’s nothing to it, but I know how he hates being forced down that road. He has the fixed idea that it’ll hurt Gus, and maybe he is right. Gus has been through enough already, and certainly doesn’t need more. 

 

“Good,” she seems pleased with the information, which, frankly, surprises me. She seems to realize that, and smiles, “Just because I’m a woman myself it doesn’t mean I can’t see that she’s quite obviously lost her perspective. To pack up your kids and run away … seriously, it’s not something a normal person would do.”

 

“You can say that again,” Brian mutters, standing up and wandering over to the window. He’s been very restless ever since we found out Mel’s left Pittsburgh. I can’t say exactly but I’m not sure he’s slept more than two hours each night. He looks exhausted even though he tries his best to hide it. But he’s not 29 anymore, and in a 35 year old strain shows after a while. 

 

“What can you tell me about Melanie?” Georgie asks, leaning back and looking at us. 

 

When Brian doesn’t reply, I clear my throat. “She’s a lawyer. And she and Brian were never on the best of terms.”

 

“The fucking cunt hates me,” Brian throws in, still staring out of the window. 

 

“No, she doesn’t,” I say softly, knowing that it’s frustration that’s talking out of him right now. God, I could just kill Mel for doing this to him. Only last weekend we were so happy, Gus was having a great time and the zoo and Brian told me I was his other dad. And only five days later, the kids are gone and we don’t have a fucking clue where they are. “Mel was always jealous. But she … loves the kids. I’m sure. Lindsay’s death hit her hard.”

 

“I see,” Georgie nods, seemingly deep in thought. “Does she have any relatives.”

 

“Lots,” Brian replies. “I met most of them once.”

 

“Does she have any in Europe?”

 

My head snaps around, “Europe?”

 

“Well, you said she is Jewish.” Georgie looks at Brian. 

 

He raises a brow, “So?”

 

“It wouldn’t surprise me if she had some relatives somewhere over there. A lot of Jews went back to Europe after the 2nd World War was over.” She frowns and scribbles something on a paper. “It’ll be something to check out,” she says mostly to herself. Chewing on the pen, she mumbles, “Amsterdam, Berlin, Frankfurt, Paris are the most likely cities.” 

 

“Is there anything we can do?” I ask.

 

“Find out what you can about her family. And maybe … well, we’ll see what turns up.” She pauses for a moment, then looks at Brian again, “Fiona told you what I charge for a day?”

 

Brian shakes his head, no. “But I have a feeling I’m going to find out.”

 

Smiling she writes down some numbers and shows it to us. My jaw almost hits the desk, but Brian seems unfazed. “Fiona says you’re good. Prove it to me that you’re worth it.”

 

Her smile turns into a grin, “I will, Brian. Don’t worry. I will.”


	2. Loose Ends

“I can’t believe that she just left and took the children with her. That’s so awful. Poor Brian.”

 

Joan looks pale and every one of her 60 years seems to have caused lines in her weary face. Which, given the circumstances, isn’t really a surprise. Still, I feel an unwelcome stab of pity at the sight. I don’t want to feel sympathy for someone who brought nothing but pain and grief into the life of her son. So why the fuck did I let Jennifer drag me here?

 

I’ve never been a masochist, never went off on pain and torture, and yet, I deliberately went here and now I sit in Joan Kinney’s living room, drinking tea like she’s my best friend. Moireen, a lovely young woman, with the hugest green eyes and the reddest hair I’ve ever seen, has prepared it for us. She’s obviously a nurse Brian hired, and she seems to live in the house for the time being. 

 

A forced smile appears on Joan’s face. “So, tell me, Mrs. Novotny, how is your son? Michael, right?”

 

That’s right, bitch, his name is Michael, and without him your son would’ve ended in the gutter. But you preferred to ignore him most of the time. “He’s fine,” I say through slightly gritted teeth. “A little depressed lately because his boyfriend broke up with him.”

 

A muscle in Joan’s cheek starts to tick and I feel a perverse satisfaction at seeing it. Jennifer clears her throat beside me, but I decide to ignore it. It’s her fault I’m here, so she has to deal with it now.

 

“Yes, I …” Joan fidgets with the napkin in her lap, her eyes darting around nervously, “… remember him coming to our house. He and Brian … seemed close.”

 

“They still are,” I snap, hoping with all my heart that it’s still true. Michael’s relapse back to old times regarding his feelings for Brian caused a small rift and I’m not sure it can truly heal. But somehow they seem to manage. At least that’s the feeling I get. “They’re best friends,” I add with more conviction I actually feel. 

 

“That’s nice,” Joan replies, while her fidgeting continues.

 

“Moireen seems to be a very nice woman,” Jennifer says suddenly, clearly trying to steer the conversation away from more dangerous subjects. Always the peacemaker, our Jennifer. I wonder, was that the way she kept peace in her house, between Justin and Craig, for seventeen years? No wonder it exploded in the end.

 

Clearly relieved, Joan smiles at her. “Yes, she is wonderful. She’s the daughter of a very dear friend. Brian found out that she’s a nurse who currently is between jobs.”

 

A very dear friend? Don’t get me wrong, I don’t really know this woman, but I still have a hard time believing that such a ice-tower can have any kind of friend, least of all a ‘very dear one’. 

 

“That’s nice,” Jennifer comments, sounding so much like Joan did just before, I can barely suppress a snort. “I’m sure you’re happy to have someone in the house. How very considerate of Brian.”

 

My eyes flicker to her and I see a slight smile tugging at her lips. Why, that sneaky woman! But I’ve noticed before that underneath all that WASP-attitude lies a tigress who will fight with everything she has if one of her cubs is threatened. And somehow Brian made cub-status these past weeks. Jennifer is just a little more subtle and sneaky in her ways. I, on the other hand, couldn’t be called subtle by a long shot. Insert a snicker here.

 

“He hasn’t talked to me since …” Joan trails off, her eyes looking again at her lap. 

 

“It’s not really surprising,” I blurt out before I can stop myself. See, I told you, I’m not subtle. Plus I have the feeling that it’s been far too long since someone told Joan Kinney the truth. “It was a shitty thing to do.”

 

“Debbie please,” Jennifer tries to interrupt, shifting uncomfortably in her chair. 

 

But I’m having none of it. “Well, it was,” I insist.

 

“Debbie-“

 

“No,” Joan interrupts to my utter surprise. “Mrs. Novotny is right. It was selfish and inconsiderate. Brian has enough problems as it is, without me adding another one.”

 

I stare at her as if she’s suddenly grown horns. Did Joan Kinney just say she thought I was right? “Damn right, I am. Right, I mean.” Being speechless never worked long for me. Even when I was only four years old Nonna called me her little chatterbox. 

 

“This isn’t about right or wrong, Debbie,” Jennifer looks at me seriously. “Don’t you think there are more important matters at hand right now?”

 

“Like what?” I ask, hating the fact that I sound a bit like a petulant child. But shit, I really hate it when someone treats me like one. 

 

“Like trying to find a way to help Brian and Justin. Justin came over to my house yesterday and he told me that Brian has barely slept since Melanie and the children disappeared. That can’t be good for him. How is he supposed to function if he doesn’t sleep? Besides, he has a job to do, too.”

 

“Is there trouble at the agency?” Joan asks suddenly, guilt flickering through her eyes. “I would never forgive myself if my-“

 

“Fuck, can’t you get over yourself already?” I shout, feeling too unsettled to sit any longer. “Jesus, not everything revolves around you, you know!” 

 

“I … I …” 

 

“Joan,” Jennifer puts a hand on Joan Kinney’s arm in a try to calm her down. My outburst has left them both a little flustered, but I couldn’t care less. 

 

“Christ!” I exclaim, hating the fact that I can’t run my fingers through my hair without dislocating my wig. What’s wrong with these people? “This isn’t about you,” I look at Joan, then at Jenn. “I’m a mother myself, I know what Brian’s going through. I can’t even imagine what it would have meant if someone had taken Michael from me. So don’t patronize me.”

 

Jenn flushes, “I never-“

 

“The hell you didn’t.” I take a deep breath. Getting into each others hair won’t help either. “Just … don’t do it,” I say. “What else did Justin tell you?”

 

“Not much.” Jennifer gives a helpless shrug, then lowers her head. “We … are not as close as we once were. The last weekend was wonderful.” She looks up and tears are standing in her eyes. “But … after the mess with Ethan, Justin isn’t the same anymore.”

 

“Well,” I huff, “what did you expect? Of course he’s changed. Or wouldn’t you be?”

 

“Yes, of course,” Jennifer hurries to admit. “But there’s a difference between understanding him and what I’m feeling. It hurts that he sometimes evades my touches, that the trust is not the same anymore.”

 

I sigh, and inwardly let the subject go. It wouldn’t make sense anyway, to pursue it. Jennifer has a hard enough time already and Joan, who is following our exchange with wide eyes, doesn’t have a clue. “Alright then,” I say after a moment, “any ideas what we can do?”

 

*****

 

I stiffen involuntarily when the phone rings at ten o’clock tonight. I’m alone at the loft for a change. Justin’s with his mommy and sister for dinner. He wanted me to come, but I took an out, needing a little time for myself. I wanted to think and I can never do that in company.

 

What I didn’t count on was how much I would miss Justin’s presence which has become the one constant in my life these past weeks. Even if he just sits on the sofa, quietly drawing something, I can still feel him and being close to him calms me in a way I can’t explain. 

 

So instead of using the time to think I find myself prowling around the loft like a tiger closed up in a cage. I would laugh, because, really, it’s ridiculous, not to say downright pathetic, but I don’t feel like laughing right now. 

 

Years ago something like this would have had me in a panic and sent me into an endless spin of booze, sex and drugs, but not any more, and I realize not with a little pride how far I’ve really come. Take that Jack, I sometimes feel like shouting towards Heaven. You didn’t break me after all, you didn’t damage me beyond repair. 

 

The telephone rings again and I snatch it from the table where Justin left it after his endless chat with Daphne last night. “Yeah?”

 

“Brian?”

 

“Who is this?”

 

“It’s Georgie. Georgie St. John,” the caller identifies herself. I should’ve recognized her voice. It’s not as if hordes of females call me in that late, but I was a little preoccupied. 

 

“Hi,” I reply, trying to ignore my suddenly thundering heart beat. I have to lick my lips before being able to ask, “Any news?”

 

“That’s why I called,” she says, sounding so annoyingly cheerful, for a moment I’m tempted to snarl at her. Then her words sink in, and my heart rate increases to astronomical heights. 

 

“You know where they are?”

 

“Not yet, but we have a trace. They boarded a plane from Pittsburgh to New York, then stayed there for one night in a second class hotel.” 

 

Figures. Mel fits right into a second class hotel. I sigh, and try not to be too disappointed at the news. It’s more than we had before, after all. “Were they okay?”

 

“As far as we know, yes.”

 

“What do you mean ‘as far as you know’?” This time I can’t keep myself from snarling. “You either know or you don’t.” 

 

“Brian,” she says, and I realize she’s trying to soothe me with the steady and gentle sound of her voice. I’m probably not the first client who starts to panic at the other end of the line. 

 

I heave another sigh at the realization, “What?”

 

“I’m sure they’re fine. You said she loved the kids. She’s not going to hurt them.”

 

“She slapped my son,” I tell her, amazed how calm my voice sounds. When Emmett finally admitted what he’d found out from Gus the night he babysat, I was close to hitting something. 

 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Georgie says, “but Brian, a slap doesn’t mean she’s abusing him. You said she was under a lot of stress. Things like that happen.”

 

“They shouldn’t,” I insist stubbornly, sounding a little bit like a petulant child. But I’ve been there. When I was five, Jack slapped me one night. It was just a start. I don’t want to believe that Mel is anything like my father, but you can never be too careful.

 

“You are right,” she agrees, “it shouldn’t.” I hear her taking a deep breath. “Anyway. We’re now checking flights from New York to Europe. So far nothing turned up. Since September 11 it’s harder than ever to get access to passenger lists. But we’re on it. My colleague went there himself and he’s got personal relations that might help.”

 

“Meaning he fucked the lovely flight attendant,” I reply sarcastically. 

 

“I’m not sure if *he* was lovely, but yeah, Brandon fucked the flight attendant.”

 

So her colleague is gay. Interesting. “I see.”

 

“He’ll get the information sooner or later.”

 

“Better make that sooner.”

 

“We’re trying,” she promises and I know she’s telling the truth. From the moment I stepped into Georgina St. John’s office I had the impression of someone who wasn’t just doing a job, but who worked with real dedication. It’s the reason I hired her, and I’m sure it’s the reason Fiona recommended her to me. 

 

“I know. Keep me informed, okay?”

 

“I’ll call as soon as I have any news.”

 

After I put down the phone, I feel even more unsettled than before and wish Justin was here. A sudden knock at the door has be almost jumping out of my skin. I frown as I walk over to open it. Justin has a key, so it can’t be him. And I’m in no mood to entertain any well meaning friends tonight. I tear the door open and – 

 

“Hey.”

 

I don’t know who I expected to see, but finding Mikey at my doorstep is a real surprise. For many years it wouldn’t have been, but after the most recent events, I really didn’t expect him to come around like he used to do. 

 

“Mikey.” I feel familiar warmth spreading through my belly at the soft, comforting sound of his voice. Memories of many nights spent together, of crying in his arms, of comfort given and taken, of friendship that helped me to survive, flooding my mind. 

 

Taking a deep breath, I step back and he enters. I see his gaze wandering around searching for something. I know what it is about and say, “He’s not here. Dinner with mom and sis.” I keep the annoyance I feel from my voice. Justin says I’m a little too sensitive these days where Michael is concerned. My best friend instantly came to tell me about Mel’s plan after all. But I’m still cautious. Don’t ask me why. 

 

Maybe it was the look in his eyes when he forced me to choose between Justin and him. Whatever the reason, I know without a doubt that even if we manage to save our friendship in the end, it’ll never be what it once was. A part of me is saddened by the thought. The other, much bigger part, however, accepts it as a sign of real growth and maturity. I’m not the man I was then, and I’d want to be him anymore. It’s up to Michael if he can accept the changes it brings. 

 

“And you didn’t go?” he asks and I try hard not to hear the traces of disapproval in his voice. Poor Mikey, always so busy protecting me. But he will have to learn that Justin is off limits here. He’s my partner and I’m not going to let my friend criticize my partner. 

 

“I decided to stay,” I tell him with a deliberate shrug, hopefully making it clear that there’s nothing about it. “I wanted some time to just be on my own, to think. But instead I find myself wishing he was here with me.”

 

Michael looks at me a little wistfully. “I could always think better when Carl was around.” 

 

A safe subject – thank God. “Did you see him again?”

 

Pain flashes through Michael’s eyes at that. “Yeah,” he says tightly.

 

“I gather it didn’t go all that well.”

 

“You could say that,” he replies making a pained grimace. “Do you have something to drink?”

 

“Sure,” I nod at the bottle on the kitchen counter. “And there’s beer in the fridge. Serve yourself.” He fishes for a glass, then looks at me questioningly. I shake my head. “No thanks. I’ve cut back. Especially when I’m dealing with problems.” Another of those maturity things I guess. Justin says he’s very proud of me, and hell if that doesn’t please me. See, I said I’m pathetic these days.

 

Michael snorts at my response. “Since when? Come on, have one with me.”

 

“No,” I tell him firmly and turn away, using body language to make it clear I’m not interested. I walk over to the sofa and sit down. Michael joins me a moment later with a half-filled glass in one hand. He sits down next to me, and slightly bumps my shoulder with his when he does so. 

 

“So,” I ask, bumping right back. “What happened when you met your ex?”

 

Michael winces, then takes a sip from his whiskey and sighs. “We ran into each other the other night in front of Woody’s. He and Sidney,” he rolls his eyes at the name, “were just coming out.”

 

“Sidney?” 

 

“Yeah. Can you believe it? What kind of name is that? He’s from Manchester, and in Pittsburgh for an exchange work program.”

 

“Doesn’t sound too promising to me,” I comment and grin when Mikey gives me the raised eyebrow look. “Well, he’ll have to go back one day, right?”

 

“Yeah, well,” he grumbles. “But what until then. God, he looks … great. Shit, the guy’s a walking god.”

 

I can’t help but chuckle, “So surfer-boy finally found his match.”

 

“Seems that way.” His head drops on my shoulder. “It’s the story of my life. David, Ben, Carl, all gone.”

 

I keep myself from pointing out why it never worked. Mikey should know it by now. Or at least I hope he does. 

 

“You’re the only one who never left me.”

 

I instantly tense, not sure what to make of the comment. “Mikey, don’t. Besides, there’s your mom and Vic. And don’t forget Ted and Emmett.” 

 

His head comes up and he stares at me. “Hey,” he cries a little outraged, “I’m done with that shit. I’m not swooning over you anymore. I’m so over you.”

 

In your dreams, I want to tell him, but don’t. Justin’s probably right, Deep down Michael will always harbor that dream about us. But if we can deal with it, we might get lucky after all. 

 

He sighs, “I just don’t want to lose you. You’re my best friend, and I don’t want for things to change. I want us to be the way we always were.”

 

Carefully, I ease away from him a little and choose my next words, “We can spend time together,” I tell him. “But it’s not gonna be the same. Not the way it was. I’ve cut back on the booze, and apart from the occasional joint, I’m not doing drugs anymore.”

 

“Jesus,” he chuckles, “don’t tell me Brian Kinney’s finally becoming respectable.”

 

“I guess I am.” Strange, it even feels good. I turn my head to look at Michael, “I think I’m finally growing up. I’m with Justin and I want that to work out. He’s good for me.” I pause and add, “And he’s enough.”

 

Michael’s eyes grow round, “No tricks? Holy shit!”

 

“No tricks,” I admit, and realize with amazement that I mean it. However, I give Mikey a wink, “But don’t tell Justin that. He might get too comfortable.”

 

He grins and for a moment we’re back years, sitting in his room, sharing a hand-job over Patrick Swayze. “I won’t. Besides, it may hurt your super stud image.”

 

I don’t tell him that I give fuck about something like that these days. He wouldn’t understand it anyway. In his eyes I’ll always be the old Brian. He might never really understand that I’m not anymore. And he would never believe me that I like the new improved version a lot better.


	3. Loose Ends

I barely stifle a yawn at yet another of my father’s boring stories regarding his work, but give a polite smile when he raises a brow at me. I was more than a little surprised that mom had invited him for dinner, but decided to make the best of it. After all, my father had also made an effort to come to terms with what he once called my perverted lifestyle and so I figured it wouldn’t hurt me to try the same. Brian’s words were ringing in my ears, that my father was only showing his interest after Ethan’s public success, and as much as I hated to admit it, it was the truth. Still, Craig was my father, and I just couldn’t forget all the good times we’d had when I was still a kid.

 

“Justin, did you call Alan Cummings?” My father asks, looking at me expectantly. 

 

Trying to remember who the fuck Alan Cummings was, I slightly shake my head. “Uh … no. I’m sorry, but I had a lot on my mind lately. And ever since Melanie took off with the kids…” I trail off as soon as I see his brows draw together in anger. “What?”

 

“I can’t believe you let Kinney pull you back into his schemes,” he says. “My secretary brought me the magazines.”

 

I roll my eyes, almost grinning when Molly giggles. “It’s not as if we planned to be on the covers. As for Brian’s schemes … Brian never did anything to me. Ethan on the other hand…” I let that hang in the air, hoping my dad understands. Ethan, the accepted one, the one my father used to hug, he is the culprit here, not Brian. 

 

My father looks as if he’s suddenly tasted something sour. “I … ah … was very sorry to hear about Ethan.”

 

I raise a brow. “Sorry? Frankly, I’m glad the fucker is dead.”

 

“Justin!” My mother looks at me as if she’s going to hyperventilate. As much as she’s trying she’ll never understand me. And crude language is still to foreign for her. 

 

“But it’s the truth,” Molly comes to my aid. “The fucker hit Justin. I’m glad he’s gone, and that slimy Hollis-guy.”

 

I swallow instant nausea at the mention of that name. It still causes images in front of my inner eye I’d rather forget. Hands touching me, foul breath, sweaty skin. I press the napkin in front of my mouth. 

 

“Brian very generously helped me out,” mom says.

 

Again my father’s brows drew together. “Helped you out?”

 

“He gave me money to cover the debts I still had with Mr. Hollis,” my mother explains, giving me a slight smile. Yes, I realize she’s making an effort, and I smile back. She takes a deep breath, “He’s really been very generous.”

 

“Couldn’t have Justin helped you. After all, there’s the money he inherited from Ethan.” He coughs, then continues, “About that money, son-“

 

I interrupt him with a raised hand, “Stop right there, dad. I will never touch it. In fact, I gave it away to charity already.”

 

My father stiffens, “You did what?”

 

I shrug, “It was the for the best. I’d have felt dirty using it. Even touching it gives me the creeps. Brian agreed, so I got rid of it.”

 

“Brian agreed.” The words are pressed through clenched teeth, and my father closes his fist around his napkin. “Are you completely out of your mind? We are talking about three million dollars here.”

 

“I feel a lot better without them. And you should too. After all, I earned them by whoring for Ethan.”

 

“Justin.” This time my mother’s voice is faint, and she looks so pale, I wonder for a moment if she might topple over with her chair any time soon. 

 

“Justin!” My fathers voice, however, is firm. “Don’t use such language around your sister.”

 

The sister in question just rolls her eyes. “Dad, I’m not a kid anymore. What kind of language do you think I hear in school?”

 

Ignoring her thoroughly, my father’s stormy gaze stays on me, “I can’t believe you gave all that money away, I counted-“ He stops abruptly as if he’s said something he didn’t intend to, but I heard it nevertheless. 

 

“What?” I straighten in my chair and look at him squarely. “What did you count on? The money? Is that the reason you tried to bridge the gap between us these past years, because you counted on the money Ethan would earn?”

 

“Justin, please,” Mom looks at me pleadingly, but this time I can’t help her. I’m not Ethan’s little boy-toy anymore, I’m not the victim, and I need for my father to spell it out. And then I’m going home to my life, and my lover and deal with it. He’ll help me, I’m sure, and I feel a strength I haven’t felt in years. Love does that to people, and trust, and the certain knowledge that you aren’t alone. 

 

“No,” I shake my head. “Tell me, Dad! Was it the money? Were all those words of understanding a lie?”

 

He stares at me for what seems like an eternity, then jumps up from his chair and throws his napkin on the table. “Alright. Yes!” I hear my mother gasp in shock, but ignore it. “Do you really think I will ever accept this perverted lifestyle of yours. It’s disgusting and against the laws of nature.”

 

“You almost sound like Brian’s mother. Thinking about it, maybe I know just the right wife for you,” I toss at him, hearing all his words, but feeling strangely detached from them. Is it because I heard it all before? Or am I just numb? I hope it’s the first, but have the nagging suspicion it’s the latter, that I might break down the moment Brian closes his arms around me. “As for the laws of nature,” I say. “I suppose you never watched animals getting at it.”

 

Craig’s face contorts – I have a hard time calling him Dad now – and he turns away, as if it’s too painful to look at me. Can it be that easy? Is love between parents and children nothing but children fulfilling their parents’ expectations? And if they fail, is love always withdrawn? I think of Debbie and Michael and have my answer. It’s not the rule, but with my father it seems that way. I look at Molly, her eyes wide, her mouth slightly open, and wonder what she’s thinking right now. Not that she harbors any illusions about the man who gave the sperm for us, but knowing something and actually hearing it are still two different pairs of shoes. 

 

“Craig, please,” Mom says, still trying to keep peace. Can’t she see that it’s way past that? “Why don’t we all sit down and finish dinner?” 

 

“Oh mom,” Molly once again rolls her eyes. “Wake up. Dad hates Justin. And Justin,” she looks at me, “why are you letting him do this to you?” 

 

I smile, not sure where the expression comes from, but I still feel it tugging at my lips. “He isn’t worth it,” I tell her, reaching out and touching her arm. “Besides, whatever I say, he’ll never understand, Mol.”

 

“No, I never will,” Craig agrees, turning back to us, to what was once his family. A family he created, a family he nurtured, a family he … loved? “How could I. And Kinney of all people! He is the most perverted of them all!”

 

That does it. He can attack all he wants, but Brian is off limits. “Shut up!” I hiss. “You have not the slightest idea where Brian is concerned. If it wasn’t for Brian I’d still trying to get away from Hollis and his idea of a good time.” I shudder, making it perfectly clear what I’m talking about. 

 

“It actually matters to you who sticks his dick into you? And here I thought just any cock would do for a pervert like you.”

 

“Craig!”

 

“Dad!” 

 

The shocked outcries of the female Taylors barely register with me. I hear a roaring in my ears, and shake my head. “I never want to see you again,” I say calmly, standing up slowly and giving my father a last look. My father. Yes, I used to call him that. “Mom,” I don’t look at her. I could never stand the expression on her face right now. “I need to leave. I’ll call tomorrow. Love you, Mol.” 

 

Holding my head high and my shoulders stiff, I leave the house, and nobody’s trying to hold me back. Not that they could. I have to get away, to grieve. Today my father died. And I need my lover’s arms around me, need to be close to him. He’ll understand. I know he will. He is my home.

 

*****

 

“I can’t believe we’re doing this!” 

 

I roll my eyes and exchange a look with Michael, who giggles beside me. “I think it’s fun. And to think I spent the evening with Brian. I could barely keep my mouth shut.”

 

“You didn’t tell him anything, did you?” 

 

I sigh loudly, “If you’re so afraid, Teddy, why don’t you just go back home?”

 

“I’m not afraid,” he states, sounding outraged. God, I love him. I truly do. He’s such a great guy. If only he’d get rid of all those silly inhibitions he has. 

 

“Will you two shut up now!” Michael glares at us. “If you’re keeping this up we can make this easier on all of us and just call the police.”

 

“Besides,” I tell Ted, ignoring Michael, “it was your idea in the first place.”

 

“That’s such a lie. All I said was that we should try to find a way to help Brian.” He pauses and shakes his head. “Shoot me now. I can’t believe I truly said that.”

 

I pat his shoulder, “You’re a good guy, Teddy. And we love you. Accept it.”

 

He snorts, but finally manages to open the door to Mel’s house. Michael stares at him in amazement. “And here I thought only Brian could break into houses.”

 

Ted snorts again, but he doesn’t comment it any further. He has a lot of hidden talents, our Teddy. I should know after all. He was my lover for a while and I have to admit it was good. Actually, it was terrific, but somehow I knew from the start that it couldn’t last. Best friends becoming lovers is never a good thing. We should’ve taken a lesson from Brian’s book. He was right from the start. When Ted and I broke up, I almost lost my best friend for good. I’m still not sure what saved our friendship in the end, but I’ll be eternally grateful for it.

 

“Jesus, guys, it stinks here. I bet she didn’t leave a window open.” Michael is the first to enter the living room that lies in complete darkness. Only the moon shining through the windows offers a little orientation. 

 

Ted flips on a flashlight. “I doubt we’re going to find anything in here. How about one of us goes upstairs?” When nobody answers, he sighs. “Okay, I’ll go. You keep your eyes open down here.” With that he’s gone and the creaking stairs show us his progress. 

 

“So,” I pull a small flashlight from my pocket and open a drawer in the corner, “you were with Brian tonight?”

 

“Yeah,” Michael answers, flipping through some papers on the table. “Justin was with his family and Brian opted to stay on his own, which I didn’t know before I went there, I might add.”

 

I hear the defensiveness in his voice and sigh inwardly. “I wasn’t going to comment on it, Michael,” I say gently. 

 

“The hell you were not!” he replies a little hotly. Then he sighs. “I’m sorry. But this would be a lot easier if everyone would butt out. Every time I see my mother, she can’t stop talking about how I should move on and find a new man. Jesus, I’m still suffering from my break-up with Carl. Why can’t she understand that?”

 

“She understands.” I open the next drawer and close it quickly. I never wanted to see all the things lesbians use to play. Shuddering a little I open the next, and breathe easier. “Your mother worries, Michael.” And she doesn’t want you to spend your life waiting for a man you’ll never have, I add silently, but of course would never tell him that. Besides, I think he knows it already, just has a hard time accepting it. 

 

“It’s still annoying,” he says, walking towards the kitchen. “But it’s probably my own fault. I should’ve moved far away when there was still time.”

 

“It would break her heart.” And it would. Debbie would be devastated to lose Michael. Even though it might be good for him, she would never recover. “Remember when you were going with David. She tried to put up a tough front, but her heart was breaking.”

 

“I know.” He sighs again, very loudly this time. “I just can’t win in this, Em. Whatever I do, someone’s going to lose.” He pauses, then says very softly, “I saw Carl. He has a new lover. Sidney. He’s gorgeous.”

 

“I’m sorry,” I reply in the same voice. “Breaking up is never easy.”

 

“Especially if it’s your own fault. I was a such a foot, Emmett. Such a fool.”

 

What can I say to that? It’s the truth and it’s painful. “Maybe it won’t last. Carl is a great guy.”

 

“Yeah, he is. And I was a bastard.”

 

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. Carl should’ve fought for you.” Even though I think Michael was a bastard, I still think Carl took the easy way out. He should’ve stayed and called Michael upon his behavior. But instead of fighting, he just left. 

 

“He tried, Em. He told me time and again. But I wouldn’t listen and … hey, what is this?”

 

My interest instantly perked, I moved over to where he was standing, “What?”

 

“A phone number. And it’s not in the country.” 

 

He holds out a slip of paper to me. “Maybe Europe. Teddy might know.”

 

“Teddy might know – what? There’s nothing up there by the way. Just toys and … things I don’t really want to think about ever again.” 

 

I think about the drawer in the corner and shudder again. Lesbians. “Ah … Teddy, Michael found this phone number. Can you tell us where it’s from?”

 

He looks at the paper slip and nods. “It’s in France. I have some customers from there. No doubt, France.”

 

“Maybe that’s the hint we need?” Michael looks at us with new hope in his eyes. 

 

“Let’s not get too excited,” Ted slams on the brakes of our excitement. “It might be something or it might be nothing.”

 

“Our Teddy, always a positive outlook on life.” 

 

He glares at me. “Well, one of us has to keep his feet on the ground.”

 

“We could get this to Brian and-“

 

I put a hand on Michael’s arm. Not that I would share Ted’s sentiment about both feet on the ground. Sometimes levitating can be fun, but it’s almost midnight, and I don’t think Brian would appreciate being disturbed. After all, the phone number could be worth nothing. “You get it to him first thing in the morning,” I say firmly, ignoring the disappointment in Michael’s eyes. Oh yeah, he’s so over Brian. Sure. He’ll never be over Brian, and that’s the real tragedy. Maybe Carl knew that too and that’s why he didn’t even start fighting. 

 

“Fine,” Michael sighs. 

 

“Let’s go,” Ted urges. “So far we didn’t get caught, but the longer we’re staying …” 

 

And so we leave, a French phone number in Michael’s pocket, and with the knowledge that there are things in life you just can’t change, as much as you want to.

 

*****

 

I raise my head the moment I hear the elevator, and keep my eyes on the door as it slips open and Justin steps inside. “Hey, you’re back.” He doesn’t respond, just closes the door behind him and locks it. I frown. That’s so not Justin’s usual behavior that I’m instantly alarmed. “What happened?”

 

He pauses in the process of turning and I hear him take a deep breath. “My Dad came.”

 

Oh. There’s no excitement in his voice, no emotion at all, just a bone-deep weariness. “It was bad.” It’s not a question, I already know the answer.

 

“I’m not going to see him again,” he states flatly, finally turning to me and I have to stifle a gasp at the desolation in his eyes. I want to find Craig and hit him. Hard. “We’re over. I’m not sure about Mom and Mol. They might still keep contact.”

 

“What did he say?”

 

Justin moves his shoulders in a horrible little shrug. “Is it important? He said that I was a fool to give away the money, that he counted on it. That you were a pervert. That he thought I’d just want to have a cock up my ass.”

 

This time I suck in a sharp breath. Slowly I get up, a little unsure if he even wants to be touched. But the moment I reach out, he practically sags into my arms. He clings to me like a drowning man and I feel his whole body tremble. “Shhhh … It’s okay, Justin. I’m here.”

 

“Brian. Brian.” His voice is muffled against my chest and he repeats my name again and again. “Don’t go away, Brian.”

 

“I won’t,” I promise, and know it’s true. I will never leave him. There were times when all I wanted to do was to run, but not anymore. Now the idea of running away from this man is so foreign to me, I couldn’t even start contemplating it. I tighten my hold around him and steer him toward the bedroom. Holding him close with one arm, I slowly undress him and me, then we lay down on the covers, just close to each other, our body heat mingling, our heartbeats in sync. 

 

I let my fingertips glide over his smooth skin, the little hairs on his arms baby soft. “He is a fool.” He says nothing, just continues to cling to me. He hasn’t quite stopped trembling yet. “I wish I could say something to make it better, but I can’t.” 

 

“You make it better,” he says after a moment. “You’re here.” 

 

I breathe a kiss against his forehead. “So are you. We’re both here. Together. I love you, Justin.”

 

“I love you.” He looks at me and the first tear falls. It’s followed by more and soon he’s sobbing in my arms, the pain pouring out of him, and I take it gladly, share it with him and hold him, whisper his name. Years ago, something like this would have sent me running. But thanks to the brave man in my arms I’m not like that anymore. Despite all I threw at him, he still held on, and that’s what I’m going to do now.


	4. Loose Ends

“I hate spinach!” With a dangerous glimmer in his eyes and a voice that sounds almost like a growl, Gus dumps his fork in his food and crosses his little arms in front of his chest. I sigh, but say nothing. After all, this isn’t new for me, Gus never liked spinach, and he was never shy announcing his distaste. 

 

“Really, Melanie. This boy needs to learn a lot. Maybe you should think about enrolling him in the school I mentioned.”

 

“I really appreciate your advice, Helene, but Gus is not old enough to go to a boarding school. Besides, he doesn’t speak a word of French. He would feel lost there. He’s only a little boy.” Okay, so the little boy looks more like a little devil right now, staring at me with a challenge in his eyes, but I would never send him away. 

 

“He is old enough to be obstinant, as we can see.” Pressing her thin, bloodless lips into yet a thinner line, Helene looks at me disapprovingly. Fuck. This is what I get for depending on her help. Ever since we stepped into this house she hasn’t stop criticizing the children, or rather Gus. Sara is too little for criticism, thank God. At first I was thrilled when uncle Avraham in New York had the idea of going to Paris, but now I’m not so sure anymore it was the right decision. True, I’m finally far away from Brian Kinney, but I got Helene in exchange. 

 

“I am not going to eat this!” Gus announces, now directing his glare at Helene. For a moment I want to shout ‘yes’, but can restrain myself – albeit barely. 

 

“Then, young man,” Helene tells him in her fake French accent – she was born in Chicago, the arrogant bitch, and her birth name is Helen -, “you will have to go to bed hungry.”

 

“Mom?” His eyes turn back to me and I see his lower lip is starting to quiver. Oh Fuck. 

 

“Helene,” I say, my voice as pleasant as possible under the circumstances, “this is my son, okay? Don’t interfere, please.”

 

Another of those disapproving, thin-lipped looks shoots my way, but she simply sniffs indignantly. I nod and turn to my son. “Gus, would you like some pancakes. I could make them for you?”

 

“Yay!” he exclaims happily, beaming at me. “Can I have it, like, now?”

 

Like, now? God, he even talks like Justin. Shit! And I promised myself not to think about Pittsburgh. Of course, it’s not working. I think of my house, my friends, my work. Not that I still have work anymore. I gave up my job before I left the country, and I have the feeling that my friends aren’t really thinking friendly thoughts about me now. Not after I just up and left with the kids. Michael probably want to roast my lesbian ass on a camp fire. 

 

“Well,” I get up and hold out my hand for Gus. “Come with me then, young man.” 

 

He jumps up and hand in hand we move into the kitchen. As soon as the door closes behind us, he leans over to me and whispers. “I don’t like aunt Helene.”

 

This time I suppress the sigh, wanting to burst out. “She … isn’t used to having kids around. You have to be patient with her, Gus. Right now, we don’t have another place to stay.”

 

He stops, and looks up at me, an accusation lingering in the depths of his eyes. “Why can’t we go home? I want Daddy and Justin.”

 

“I told you already, Gus. Daddy and Justin are in the USA. We’re in France now. We can’t just go and see them.”

 

“But I hate it here. They all talk funny. I can’t understand a word they are saying. In school today, they were laughing at me and I didn’t know why.” His lower lip starts to quiver again, and tears are welling up in his expressive eyes. I’m tempted to take him in my arms, but it won’t change anything. As much as I hate it, the next few weeks are gonna be tough for him, and he’d better start getting used to it now. “I wanna go home!”

 

“We can’t,” I tell him, making it clear that there is no room for arguments. 

 

“But I wanna!” he exclaims stubbornly. 

 

“You really should make strict rules for him,” I hear Helene’s voice from the kitchen doorway, and have to close my eyes. I’m so not up for being shot at from two sides. 

 

“But I wanna see my Daddy!” Gus insists. “And Justin.”

 

“I also don’t think it is very good for the healthy development of a child to let someone as unstable as Brian Kinney be around him,” Helene goes on. “And I am not talking about his questionable sexual orientation.” 

 

I clench my teeth, “That’s why I came to Paris.”

 

“Mom, what is se … sedual orienation?”

 

Fuck! I count backwards from ten. Then do it again. “Helene, watch your words around him, will you? He is too young to understand things like that.”

 

“He can’t be too young to understand that his father is a cheating, lying, perverted bastard.” 

 

“Helene!” I glare at her. Now, I know, that the only person I have to blame for the whole mess is myself. When we first came here, I couldn’t stop ranting about Brian, painting him in the most horrible colors. No wonder Helene thinks he’s a monster. But I also thought that she’d have the decency not to mention all those things in front of Gus. Obviously I was wrong.

 

“Mom?” Big watery eyes look up at me, and tears fall. “Is Daddy bad?”

 

Fuck! “No, Daddy isn’t bad.”

 

“That’s not what you said the last time you were talking about the infamous Brian Kinney.” Helene steps into the kitchen, suddenly looking like the avenging angel on a mission and before I can interfere, she crouches down in front of Gus and looks him straight in the eye. “Gus, I am so sorry, but your father is a bad man. He hurt your mom badly. The best you can do is forget about him.”

 

“Helene!” I’m between them in a flash. “Stop it. Are you completely out of your mind? Why are you telling him things like that?”

 

She stands up slowly, and I swear I can hear her joints cracking. She’s almost fifty, so it’s not really a surprise. “Because it is the truth.” With one hand she tousles Gus’ hair, who looks completely shell-shocked. “Isn’t that right, Gussie?” She gives him a last smile and leaves the kitchen – mission accomplished. 

 

“Gus-“ I start, but suddenly the little person comes back to life and I almost gasp at the pain I see in those watery eyes. 

 

“I hate France!” he cries, backing away from me. “And I hate aunt Helene. I wanna go to Daddy. He isn’t a bad person!” And then he runs from the kitchen and all I hear are his footsteps in the hall, and all I know is that I’m the worst mother on this earth.

 

*****

 

I’m being awakened by soft lips finding their path along my body, and I sigh, feeling relaxed and aroused at the same time. The warmth around me is partly the covers of our bed, partly a body that is moving slowly but surely up my own. Hand follow the lips, touching, teasing, arousing even more. 

 

“Hmmmm,” I say, not sure if I can form actual words right now. 

 

A chuckle is my answer, and I gasp when the lips close around my right nipple, the tongue playing expertly with the hardening tit. My hands reach for my lover, his hair incredibly soft. I yearn to run my fingers through it. Silk couldn’t feel better. I moan when the mouth leaves my chest, and finally open my eyes when it doesn’t return, only to find Brian looking down at me. He smiles. “Good morning.”

 

“Morning,” I mumble, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Why did you stop?”

 

His lips find mine before he speaks. “I didn’t. I just took a break.”

 

“Uh-huh,” I reply knowingly. “Brian, I’m fine.” I see a flicker come and go in his eyes, and know I’m dead on target. “Really, I am.”

 

“Justin,” he sighs, and I know he doesn’t believe me. His eyes meet mine, and I lift my hand to cup his cheek. 

 

“I swear, I’m fine. Not fine fine, but not bad. It was a shock, sure, hearing my dad saying things like that.” He snorts slightly and his fingers trace my brows, then my nose, my lips. I kiss his fingertips. “There are so many memories in my head. Of all the good times. My dad showing me how to ride a bike, our first camping trip.” I laugh a little, “It was a disaster. I hated it, all bugs were on me, and I couldn’t wait to go home. Suffice to say, he loved it.” 

 

“I loved camping,” Brian says unexpectedly. “And soccer. I used to play soccer little league. Later too, at high school.”

 

“You did?” This is news to me. But then, Brian’s never been an obvious fag. Not one who screams it in your face, like Em. “I’m sure you looked sexy in those soccer shorts.”

 

He snorts again, this time it’s combined with a laugh. “I’ll never show you the pictures now, or your fantasies will all be shattered.”

 

I laugh as well, and then sigh, feeling safe and happy to simply be with him. Even my father’s behavior doesn’t hurt as much when Brian is near, when his hands are touching me, when I can feel his warmth. “I never wanted to play soccer, or football, or basketball, or any of the butch games my father loved so much. I think he was terribly disappointed that I didn’t share his interests, but he never let it show. He was a great father for so long, taught me so many things.” I shake my head. How am I ever gonna get those two different Craigs together? The father who loved me, and the father who now hates me, is disgusted at my very presence.

 

“At least my father never loved me,” Brian says wistfully, his fingers now combing through my hair. He sure loves touching it. Maybe I should let it grow again. 

 

“He’ll never know what he missed,” I tell him gently. Something between a laugh and a sob comes out of his mouth, and he buries his face in my chest. 

 

“God, are you real? You never even knew the bastard.”

 

“Thank God I didn’t. Our meeting wouldn’t have been pretty,” I reply with total conviction. There is no doubt in my mind that Brian’s father and I would have come to blows. Not only because he abused his son, and made it almost impossible for Brian to show his true emotions, but mainly because he obviously never even attempted to take responsibility for his actions. Did he really think by coming to Brian’s apartment and holding Gus would make all the hurt go magically away? Linds once told me about it. She thought Jack made a real effort then, but that’s Linds for you, always trying to see the best in everyone. 

 

“My fierce little champion,” Brian whispers, his lips finding mine in a long, gentle and very loving kiss. There, I want to shout at Jack, you bastard. Do you even realize what it took for Brian to be able to act like this? The effort he had to make, what he had to go through? If it wasn’t for you and your cold-hearted bitch of a wife, Brian might have been a normal, happy man, instead of someone who has to struggle every day. 

 

When our kiss ends, I keep my arms around his neck, keep him close to me. I love this man so much, it sometimes almost hurts. It wasn’t like this from the start, even though I thought so. But I was seventeen then, and Brian had been my first. I was all starry eyed, and had the world’s biggest crush on the man, but it had nothing to do with the love I feel now. Thinking back, I almost laugh. God, I was such an innocent, such a romantic fool. I just barged into his life, never taking a moment to think about what he was feeling, if he even wanted me there. All that counted were my own feelings, my fantasies to have my happily ever after with him.

 

When it didn’t work out, I found Ethan – or maybe Ethan found me. Who knows? Who cares? Fact is, we ended up with each other. And for a while I was able to convince myself that I loved him. Ethan was all the tings Brian wasn’t. He was sweet and attentive, he had no problems voicing his feelings, or showing his emotions. He liked to touch me in public – only later I understood that it was his way to mark his possession, namely me. The first year we spent together I was almost happy. But it is hard to be happy when you constantly have to convince yourself that Ethan is what you want, and not Brian who was still part of my life, who was treating me incredibly generous, like a real friend. 

 

A part of me was relieved when Ethan announced we were going to Europe, and I think it’s the reason I never questioned the idea. I just said yes, never thinking the whole thing through. 

 

“What are you thinking?”

 

“Huh?” Disoriented for a moment, my mind still with Ethan in Italy, I have to blink twice to get back to the present. 

 

“You have those cute, little worry lines between your brows when you think too hard.”

 

“Do not!” I reply indignantly. I am not even 25, I don’t have any lines!

 

He chuckles softly, but lets it go. “You really feel okay?”

 

“Yeah. Okay. It’ll be okay.” I smile at him, “I have you after all.”

 

Again he chuckles and his warm breath tickles the skin of my chin. “Then you better find a safety net.”

 

“Don’t need one,” I reply with conviction. “You’re all I need.” 

 

He sighs at that, a contented sigh, something I’ve rarely heard before. His voice is very quiet, almost small, when he asks, “You sure?”

 

“Very sure.” I don’t have to hesitate because I am. And I will show it to him. I pull his face up so we look into each others eyes. I want to kiss him in the worst way, want to feel his lips on mine, want to feel our bodies mingle. 

 

But the shrill ringing of the phone interrupts this perfect moment. Groaning loudly, Brian reaches out and grabs it from the nightstand. “Yeah?” he says non too-friendly. A second later, he sits up in the bed, his eyes wide, his face white. “Gus?” I sit up too and stare at him. Our eyes meet, and I reach out to touch his arm, hoping to give him strength that way. “Gus where are you? … Paris? What the fuck … never mind. Where is your mom? … .” Brian closes his eyes, and I squeeze his arm. Whatever Gus is saying it’s obviously deeply disturbing for his father. “Tell me, Sonnyboy, do you know the name of your aunt? … Helene? Nothing else? … No, it’s fine. Gus, listen to me. Everything’s gonna be okay. Daddy is coming to get you. I promise. … No, I’m sorry, Gus, I can’t come right now. I need to find a plane first. … Yes, Justin is coming with me.” He looks at me and I nod. It’s not as if there is more urgent business waiting for me. “We’ll be there as soon as possible. … Oh, and Gus, don’t tell your Mom we are coming. I love you, too. Bye, baby.”

 

The call ends and Brian just sits there, pressing thumb and forefinger into the sockets of his eyes, the receiver still in his hand. I let a few seconds pass before I ask, “They are in Paris?”

 

Still rubbing his eyes, he nods, “Seems that way. With some old cunt, Mel’s aunt, I guess. Gus hates her and he … he hates it there. God, if I get this bitch in my hands …” He trails off, and I know he’s talking about Mel. As much as I have tried to understand her, but I reached my limit the night she took the kids and disappeared. I know she suffers, I understand that she lost Lindsay and that it’s hard for her, but taking the kids away is too much. I just can’t forgive her. Not anymore. Not when I look at Brian and see how devastated he is, what this call from Gus did to him. How can Mel still call herself a mother?

 

Finally opening his eyes again, Brian stands up and walks over to the computer. I follow him and find him on the internet, searching for flights to Paris, France. Without looking up, he says, “I told Gus you would be coming with me. I never asked you-“ 

 

“That goes without saying. I’m not going to let you go on your own.”

 

He chuckles slightly at that, “Afraid I’m gonna kill her after all.”

 

“You have to draw a number,” I say tightly, meaning every world. 

 

He stops in mid-typing, and gazes up and into my eyes. “I never thought I could actually hate a person,” he tells me, weariness written all over his face. “How can she do that to him, that selfish bitch? She wanted to punish me and uses her kids. What kind of mother does such a thing? No, don’t answer me. I’ve had one of those myself.”

 

I put my hands on his shoulders and start massaging them. They are stiff and Brian’s leans into my touch. “Maybe she’s really lost her mind. I mean, the Mel we know wouldn’t have done that.”

 

“Don’t be so sure,” Brian warns. “She’s always been jealous of me, always resented me for my place in Linds’ and Gus’ life. She has wanted me gone as long as I can remember. I think it’s just gone a little overboard now.”

 

I know he is right, still, a thought comes to my mind. “Brian?” I ask, waiting for him to stop tying. “Can you even take the kids from her? I mean, she’s their legal parent and you are …”

 

“Nothing, I know,” he finishes my sentence. “Fuck! I should probably call Georgie … and Fiona. Well, there are no flights before tomorrow night. Enough time to talk to them. Maybe Georgie’s friend can do something.” He sighs and looks at me. “But I’ll be honest with you, Justin. If it’s really as bad as Gus told me, I don’t care if I have fucking legal rights. I’m gonna take my kids and leave. I’d rather hide with them somewhere than to have them go through their mother’s existential crisis.”

 

I stare down at him, his eyes luminous in the light of the computer and the otherwise dark loft. I didn’t think I could love him more, but I can. This man, who would do everything for his kids, is the man I always knew was there. And now that he’s looking up at me, I can’t resist him. “I love you, Rage.”

 

He makes a little noise of distress. “That’s got nothing to do with Rage or that shit-“ 

 

“I know,” I interrupt, putting two fingers over his lips. “I still love you. And we’ll find Gus and Sara and if needed we’ll hide for the rest of our lives.”

 

Brian chuckles, “Sounds like something out of a romance novel.”

 

“I don’t care,” I reply, kissing him softly. My heart almost bursts with love and pride. “Make love to me?”

 

“It’ll be my pleasure.


	5. Loose Ends

Brian's at the office handling a last-minute problem and I’m packing our bags for tonight's flight to Paris when the door buzzer goes off. It’s Michael and Emmett, and I’m not sure how I feel about seeing them. 

 

Michael and I have a strange relationship. Always have--probably always will. First he annoyed the hell out of me, with all his 'Brian won’t change, for nobody, never ever' talk. I thought he was jealous, and he was, at least a little bit. But after a while I realized it was way more complicated than that. For Michael, Brian was the living embodiment of his ultimate fantasy. Brian was everything he would never be, but by being Brian’s friend he could vicariously share his experiences: the wild life, the forbidden things, the sex. Don’t ever forget the sex. The same goes for Ted, even though he'd never admit it. Emmett is the only one who never wanted to copy Brian. 

 

Anyway...then suddenly I turned up in Brian’s life and refused to leave. Not only that, I also insisted that Brian could change. Ben’s input finally brought Michael around, made him see that change doesn’t have to be a bad thing. It’s a pity, really, that Ben didn’t last. But I understand why he left, and he certainly isn’t to blame for not trying enough. Michael’s feelings for Brian are very complex and very difficult, and with the recent developments, I can’t feeling a little uneasy around him.

 

I hear a knock at the door and then Michael tears it open, standing there with an unreadable expression on his face while Emmett grins at me from behind him, then instantly crouches down to greet the puppy. Last night, Brian arranged for Emmett to take Mick while we’re gone. “Hey,” Michael greets me and steps inside, his eyes searching for Brian.

 

“Brian had to take care of a problem at the office"

 

Michael nods. “The joy of being the boss.” His brows draw together when he sees the suitcase standing in the middle of the loft. “Are you going away?”

 

My eyes dart to Emmett, who shakes his head imperceptibly as he continues playing with Mick. 

 

I really wish Brian was here. I hate telling Michael this, because I already know how he’ll take it. He still has problems accepting me as Brian’s partner, still feels left out and hurt when Brian tells me things he doesn’t know. “Brian and I are going to Paris. Gus called last night--and he was not happy.”

 

“Oh,” is all he says, and now it’s my turn to frown. I expected him to bitch at me, but this reaction is a surprise. After a moment, he pulls something from his back pocket and holds it out to me. “I found this last night. It’s a phone number in Paris. Maybe it’ll help you.”

 

“What is it?” As long as we've known each other, Michael's never given me a thing. I took over his room because Debbie insisted, and Michael resented the hell out of me for it. 

 

“It’s where we think Mel's staying in Paris,” he replies, quickly averting his eyes and running his fingers through his hair.

 

I take the slip of paper from him, not sure what to think. “And you…ah…just found it?”

 

“No,” he sighs. “We broke into Mel’s house, okay?”

 

“It was sooo exciting,” Emmett pipes up, rising to his full height once again. Mick does a happy dance around his legs. He’ll love staying with Emmett for sure. I just wonder if we can still live with him after he’s been spoiled rotten. “We were like…uh…secret agents or something. Gay ones of course.” He pauses and seems to consider his words, then clucks his tongue. “Pierce Brosnan has this gay aura don’t you think?”

 

I look at him and blink, not quite able to follow his logic. Besides, I’m far too preoccupied with our trip to France to even try to understand. “Uh…yeah,” I reply absentmindedly. I risk a look at Michael and find him staring open-mouthed at Em. 

 

“Thanks,” I say and Michael’s mouth closes almost audibly. 

 

“It was Teddy’s idea,” Emmett winks at me. “Sort of a penance, really.”

 

“Yeah, and we had to force him,” Michael grumbles and I grin. I can just see them: The Three Musketeers--even though the comparison is a little off--trying to find evidence of Mel’s whereabouts. Brian’s gonna laugh himself silly. At least he will after we’ve found Gus and Sara and they are safe and happy again.

 

“When are you leaving?” Michael wants to know after a short silence. 

 

“Tonight,” I turn away from them and walk to the kitchen. “It was the first flight Brian could get. He was completely shaken after Gus called. Brian said Gus cried.” 

 

“The bitch,” Michael hisses, and seems to forget that at one point he was ready to give his sperm to Mel to create a new life. “You know,” he looks at me, his eyes hard and unforgiving, “I’m glad she never got pregnant. I wouldn’t want a child with her now.” 

 

“It wouldn’t be the baby’s fault,” Emmett puts a hand on Michael’s shoulder, while he keeps Mick occupied with one foot. Mick is attacking it, growling almost like a grown dog. “You would love the child, Michael.”

 

“Yeah,” Michael replies, sighing loudly. “Sure. But I'd hate it if my kid had to live with Mel.” He stops himself and frowns. “Sorry.”

 

“It’s okay, we hate it too. At least right now. Mel,” I shake my head, still having problems wrapping my mind around the changes I’ve witnessed in Mel these past months, “isn’t herself anymore. Linds’ death must have shaken her a lot more than we thought.”

 

“It’s driven her nuts,” Michael has followed me and is now sitting on one of the stools, his elbows propped on the counter. “Unhinged.”

 

“Huh?” Emmett joins us and stares at Michael. “Where did that come from?”

 

“What?” Michael frowns again. 

 

“Unhinged.” Emmett bends down and picks Mick up, settling the puppy on his lap. 

 

Michael rolls his eyes, “Can’t I use an uncommon word?”

 

Emmett shrugs and turns to me, “We really hope you find Gus and little Sara. I'm so sorry this happened. I tried to convince Teddy to come with us this morning, but he felt he’d better stay a safe distance from Brian right now.”

 

I have to grin, and wonder if Ted is really afraid of Brian. Brian is all bark and no bite, but then this is me talking, and I just know that Brian would never hurt me--not ever. At least not intentionally. Not anymore, that is. And it shows once again how far Brian has come. And me too. I mean, a couple of years ago, I would’ve just stood there and let him abuse me. The way I let Ethan abuse me. We've both come a long way. Maybe we had to. To find what we have now, to finally have reached the kind of understanding I’ve been dreaming of since I was a boy, the kind of understanding I believed my parents had. 

 

Sighing to myself, pushing sad thoughts away, I start the coffee maker and turn to my friends. That’s what they are, after all. Even with all the problems between Michael and me, they're still my friends. “You want some?”

 

“Thanks,” Michael nods, and stares at Mick. “I can’t believe Brian actually kept him.” He reaches out in an attempt to pet the puppy, but quickly pulls his hand back when Mick growls. “You should leash him,” he snaps. “He could be dangerous. What if he bites Gus?”

 

While Emmett strokes the puppy’s soft fur, I shrug, “He loves Gus, and Gus loves him.”

 

Before Michael can reply to that, the door opens and Brian enters the loft, stopping short when he sees our two visitors. Yes, he expected Em, but Michael is a surprise. “Mikey. Emmett,” he greets them quickly, then disappears in the bedroom. I excuse myself and follow him. He’s down to his briefs when I step into the bathroom. 

 

“Well, that was rude,” I comment, leaning against the doorway. 

 

He shrugs and looks at himself in the mirror before he turns his gaze to me. “They’ll live. What’s Mikey doing here?”

 

“He brought this.” I hold the slip of paper out to him. “They broke into Mel’s house and stole it. It’s a phone number in Paris.”

 

For a moment Brian stares at it, then at me, before he starts to chuckle. “Are you telling me that Ted, Emmett and Michael broke into Mel’s house and didn’t get caught?”

 

“Obviously. Or we’d visit them in jail.”

 

“Hardly. There’s more important business than to take care of three idiots.”

 

I cock my head and for the first time notice the stress lines around his eyes. “What about the problem at work?”

 

Rubbing both palms over his face, Brian sighs loudly. “They fucked up an important account. To top it off, I find out that one of our employees is selling confidential information to one of our competitors. So I spent my morning firing a long-time employee and trying to keep the furious client from firing us. Shit!” He shakes his head and I go to him, wrapping my arms around his torso from behind. He leans into my touch and takes a deep breath. 

 

“Did you keep the client?” I whisper, already knowing the answer. Okay, so call me overly optimistic, but I know Brian. 

 

“Yeah,” he whispers back. For a moment he is silent before he adds, “I kept imagining Gus, sad and lonely, and it tore me apart.”

 

I tighten my arms around him. “I know. At least Sara is too small to actually know what’s going on around her.”

 

“Don’t be too sure”, he mutters darkly. “our subconscious is a tricky thing. Only recently I read something about a girl who was twenty-five when she remembered having been molested by her father when she was only eight months old.”

 

Shaking him a little, I kiss Brian’s nape. “Nobody is molesting Gus. Or Sara.” He has a tendency to slip into a very dark mood sometimes, and I have to bring him out of it before it gets out of hand. 

 

“I know.” He sighs and relaxes again. “Still, Mel is using him for her own misguided revenge.”

 

“You think?”

 

He looks at me in the mirror, his eyes serious. “You don’t?”

 

I shrug, “I just can’t believe that revenge is what this is about. I think Mel’s just not herself any more.” I feel him stiffen again, and quickly add, “Brian, I know what she did was wrong, and I’m on your side. Gus and Sara can’t stay with her as long as she’s behaving irrationally. But I also hope that she’ll get over it. Gus loves her. He just lost someone who was very important to him. I’m not sure he could deal with losing Mel, too.”

 

“And still she took him away from me.” Brian’s voice is hard, unforgiving. 

 

“Yes.” I let my hands trail up and down his stomach, knowing that the movement will soothe him. “And it was wrong. I told you, I hate that she did this to you, and to Gus…and to me. Because I miss the kids, too.”

 

“I know you do,” His hands catch mine and hold them. For a moment he closes his eyes and when he opens them again, they are softer, the hard glint gone. “Well, first of all we have to go to Paris. And then we’ll decide. She’ll probably have us arrested before we even get a glimpse at Gus.”

 

I chuckle and after a moment he joins me. Patting his stomach one last time, I release him and turn towards the door. “You should probably talk to Michael now. He already feels left out because you didn’t tell him about Paris.”

 

“I’ll be out in a moment,” he promises and I can see he’s taking another deep breath. I make a vow that as soon as the mess with Mel and the kids is resolved, we’ll all go away for a long vacation. He needs a break badly. And so do I!

 

*****

 

“You want a cup of coffee?”

 

I raise my head and blink at Emmett, who's standing behind the counter, but I don't see the dog. Stupid mutt probably left the loft. Brian and Justin are still missing, doing God knows what. Pushing the thought away, I nod at my friend. “Yeah, sure, thanks.” I try not to feel jealous over what Brian and Justin have managed to build together in such a short time. I know they fought hard and worked hard for what they have, but I still can’t help the pang in my heart each time I see them interacting so casually. It’s only one more proof of the solidity of their relationship.

 

I’m not even sure what I’m jealous about. A few months ago I would’ve said it was Brian, period. But today, I’m not sure anymore. I still love Brian, probably always will, but today it’s not that easy anymore. 

 

Brian and I have been friends for more than 20 years--we’ve shared so much for so long that it was hard to let go, to give away the part of him that had been reserved for me and me only. Unfortunately, I didn't have much experience with sharing and I acted like an idiot. I tried my best, I swear, but I just couldn’t. I lost the men in my life, good men all of them, because secretly I still believed in an impossible dream.

 

Today I know that Brian will never love me that way. For one, he loves Justin. Even a blind man can see that. But unlike a few years--hell, a few months ago, I don’t blame Justin for it. If it hadn't been Justin, it might've been someone else, or even worse, no one. Brian might have continued living a lonely, empty life, his next fuck the only excitement. How sad is that? No, I understand now that I’m just not someone Brian can love that way. But I’m still his best friend, and that counts for something. It’s neither his nor Justin’s fault that Brian can’t return the feelings I have for him. 

 

And believe me, it takes everything I have to admit it! I hate that he can’t love me the way I love him, and I resent the hell out of Justin that he has it all. But I'll learn to live with it. Because one thing I know for sure: If Brian ever has to make a choice, he won't choose me. I saw it in his eyes the day Lindsay died, the day he and Justin came to the comic book store and I confessed that I was still hoping we’d be together in the end. I could see it in the desperate way he tried to shut me up before I could irrevocably destroy our friendship. 

 

A friendship that means more to me than anything. I know so many things about Brian, held him so many times as he cried in my arms after his father was in one of his drunken rages. He confided in me. Even though I could see that Justin was different from all his other tricks I didn’t want to believe it, didn't want to see that Brian was changing, that the Brian I knew and loved, the Brian who belonged to me despite the other men he fucked, was slowly disappearing. It was hard to take and I reacted the only way I knew--by trying to push Justin out of his life. With Justin gone, I argued, Brian would be his old self--he'd be mine again. 

 

God, what a selfish bastard I was. And what a fool. Not to forget the worst friend a man could wish for. What kind of friend tries to separate his friend from the man he loves? No wonder Ben and Carl left me, sorry creature that I am. 

 

“Here.” 

 

I snap out of my musings when a frowning Em places a cup in front of me. “What?” I ask, already knowing I'm about to hear some of the advice he so loves to give from time to time.

 

“Michael,” he says but it comes out more like a sigh and I wish the sadness in his eyes wasn’t for me. Pity is hard to accept. “Why don’t you try to get on with your life? It's clear that Brian and Justin are together. You have to let him go.”

 

“I know,” I reply, fighting to keep my voice calm. No need to show how much this is costing me, how much I hate the way Em is seeing me these days. “I’m good, Em. I swear. I just…need time.”

 

His warm hand lands on my arm and squeezes. Emmett Honeycutt is a such a sweetheart, but sometimes I want to strangle him. “Brian still loves you.”

 

Geez. And God loves me too? This is too much. If he doesn’t stop right now, I’m gonna punch him. Pulling free from his touch, I straighten on the stool. This is still my good friend Emmett, and I love him; I don’t want to lose it and lose him in the process. Taking a deep breath, I stare into my coffee cup. “Em, I know you mean well, but please,” and I let steel seep into my voice, “keep out of it. I’m good, I told you. Brian and I are friends. That’s all. I’ve accepted it. Now butt out!”

 

I can feel his eyes on me, but we’re saved by Justin and Brian joining us once again. Brian looks a lot more relaxed, and again I feel a pang. A few months ago it would’ve been me he’d been talking to. Now Justin is here, and they are sharing…a life. I’m still his best friend, but things have changed. And I *have* to accept it. I simply have to. Even if it kills me.

 

“Mikey,” Brian wraps an arm around my shoulder, making me feel warm and happy in an instant. God, I’m really a sorry case, no wonder Emmett pities me. “Thanks for the phone number. I’m sure it’ll be helpful once we’re in Paris. I also called my private investigator and my lawyer and told them what we're planning to do.” The information is for Justin and once again I suppress the pang of disappointment that it’s not me anymore. 

 

He lets me go and bends down to pick up Mick. “And you,” he looks the puppy in the eye, “will behave for Emmett.”

 

In response, the mutt's tongue darts out and Brian barely avoids a wet kiss. Laughing, he hands the puppy to Emmett. “Thanks for taking care of him.”

 

“It’ll be fun,” Emmett giggles as the dog licks his face. 

 

Brian shakes his head at the two of them and exchanges a meaningful look with Justin, who chuckles and turns to pour them each a cup of coffee. “Now,” Brian gazes at me, “I heard you and the boys broke the law, Mikey. I’m shocked.”

 

I blush at his playful words and can’t help but grin. “Oh, well, what is life without a little adventure now and then?”

 

“Indeed,” he replies and another meaningful look passes between him and Justin. And I do *NOT* want to know what *THAT* was about. Jesus! 

 

“Ted was complaining the entire time,” Emmett informs them. “But you wouldn’t believe it. He can break a lock with the best of them.”

 

“Ted Schmidt?” Brian sounds incredulous. 

 

“Well, he made a fortune with a porn website,” Justin reminds him and Brian shrugs. I bet he hates to be reminded of Ted’s wealth. He’s always been very competitive, always wanted to be the most successful. Now Ted has taken over that position. 

 

“Our Teddy is full of surprises, I can tell you that,” Emmett says, and Brian rolls his eyes.

 

“I so don’t want to know what you're talking about,” he says, and I can only agree. Ted is a dear friend, but I still get nauseous thinking about Ted and Emmett as a couple. Thank God that's over, and we can breathe easy again. 

 

“Oh you,” Emmett grins at us. “I'll have you know that Ted can be very resourceful if needed.”

 

“Emmett, stop it,” Brian warns, half-jokingly. “I can’t think about Ted naked right now. So either you change the subject or you leave.”

 

Emmett pouts a little, but he gets the message and keeps his mouth shut. 

 

“Anyway,” I say, “how are you getting to the airport?”

 

“We’ll call a cab,” Brian replies, sipping his coffee. 

 

“No way. I’ll drive you. And I’ll bring the jeep back and take care of it.” No friend of mine should have to take a cab. 

 

Brian smiles at me warmly, and my heart melts. “Thanks, Mikey. You’re a true friend.” 

 

He puts his coffee down and hugs me. Over his shoulder my eyes meet Justin’s, but instead of the anger or jealousy that I expect, I find only approval and warmth, and I wonder if there’s maybe another reason why Brian chose him. 

 

Maybe Justin is simply the better man.


	6. Loose Ends

“Christ, it’s like a circus in here. You’d think we’re waiting to see the Mona Lisa, not waiting for a free operator at the fucking post office.” 

 

Justin gives me a nervous look and I take a deep breath and squeeze his hand trying my best to let the touch calm my nerves, but frankly I’m not doing a good job here. My gut's been twisted into a million tiny knots ever since I talked to Gus on the phone. I haven't been able to keep anything down but black coffee and plain white bread. To top it off, my head feels like a fucking jackhammer is going on a rampage inside of it. 

 

“Maybe we should have left that part to Georgie’s guy,” Justin says, smiling at me. 

 

“Oh please, we can find an address! How difficult can it be? We talk to one of those people and voilà.”

 

“But what...,” Justin bites his lower lip. Usually that makes me hard in an instant. The fact that I barely notice it is further proof of my agitation. 

 

“What--what?”

 

He worries his lip a little more. “What if they don’t speak English?”

 

“Everyone on this planet speaks English,” I reply. Not that I’ve been everywhere on this planet, or even off the American continent for that matter, but so I’ve been told. Why should it be any different in Paris, France? 

 

Paris. France.

 

We’re actually here and it means nothing to me. When I was a teenager, I had wild fantasies about Paris. Thousands of hot young men, beautiful bodies everywhere, all speaking a deeply erotic language, making me sweat, making me hot. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine I'd be coming here to rescue my kids from a lunatic. 

 

A tug on my hand makes me blink and I see that we’re next to move to the desk. 

 

“Bon jour, messieurs,” the woman greets us. She’s no more than twenty-five and her openly interested eyes travel over us before she once again smiles at us. 

 

I fish for the phone number in my pocket and put in on the desk. “We’re from America. And we need to find the owner of that phone number.”

 

Her smile never slips, but her eyes drift from me to Justin, then back to me. Then she shrugs. For a moment I wonder whether she's deaf, but then she speaks. "Désolé Monsieur, mais je ne parle pas anglais."

 

“Brian,” Justin starts, but I brush him off with an impatient motion of my hand. 

 

“Okay, lady, listen. This is urgent. So just give me the fucking address.”

 

"Je suis vraiment désolée mais…"

 

“Brian!” This time Justin’s voice is more forceful and is accompanied by a tug on my arm.

 

“What?” I hiss at him.

 

“I think she’s trying to tell you that she can’t speak English.”

 

“What?” Okay, so maybe the whole world doesn’t speak English, but this is fucking Paris. A big city. Not some small village somewhere in Brittany. I feel a vein starting to drum at my temple, the headache that’s been with me for the past twenty-four hours now growing into a head-splitting migraine. 

 

Justin’s hand moves soothingly up and down my arm. “Why don’t you let me try?”

 

I snort at him. “What? Your English is a little more French?”

 

“No,” he shakes his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “But maybe all those years in Europe with Ethan were good for something.” Another smile is sent my way before he turns to the woman, giving her the full sunshine. "Nous recherchons la personne à qui appartient ce numéro de téléphone. Nous savons que le numéro est à Paris, mais nous n'avons pas l'adresse."

 

I do a double-take and stare at him as if he were an alien. The little fucker never told me that he spoke French. Quite fluently, if I may add. Not that I understand a word he's saying, but from the smile that lights the woman’s face--Mlle. Mercier, according to her name-tag--it’s perfect. Or maybe it’s just his blue eyes. Who knows? Who cares? 

 

She nods after a moment, and her fingers fly over the keyboard. After another moment, she shakes her head with a sigh. "Je suis désolée. C'est un numéro secret. Je ne peux vous donner

l'adresse."

 

"S'il vous plait Madame, nous avons vraiment besoin de l'adresse. C'est important. C'est au sujet d'un petit garçon qui est perdu-"

 

"Je suis vraiment désolé mais je ne peux vraiment pas." 

 

“What?” I ask irritably after listening to their exchange. “What the fuck is going on?”

 

Taking a deep breath that doesn’t encourage me in the least, Justin turns back to me. “It seems that the address is...kind of secret. Protected somehow. She says she can’t give it to us. I suppose it’s against the law.”

 

“What the fuck?” I whirl back to Mlle. Mercier, who shies back from the desk. Good. Maybe if she’s afraid of me, she'll give us what we need. “This is about two kids who are fucking unhappy. They’re my kids.” I turn to Justin, “Tell her. Fucking tell her that.”

 

“I did,” he replies, his hand once again moving up and down my arm. “Brian, please-“

 

“No!” I yell, not caring that all the other people turn to stare at us. Yes, I’m making a scene here, but I don’t care at all. “You give me that fucking address right now--“

 

She cuts me off mid-sentence, her earlier smile now gone. "Vous pouvez toujours hurler, Monsieur. Je ne vous donnerai aucun renseignement. Sortez, s'il vous plait." 

 

“What? Now you suddenly understand English? You fucking cunt--“

 

“Brian, please,” Justin tugs on my arm, trying to pull me away from the desk. Not that he has a chance. I’m not going until I know where Gus and Sara are.

 

"Monsieur, si vous ne cessez de hurler, je vais appelez la Sécurité."

 

“She’s gonna call Security if we don’t go,” Justin tells me, dragging me towards the exit. “Brian, let’s go. We'll call Georgie and she’ll find a way. Brian, please.”

 

I want to protest, but his grip on my arm is firm and the look in his eyes...Fuck. And I can’t refuse him anything. Not when he’s giving it to me with both of his baby blues. “Alright, alright,” I say and am rewarded with a smile. “Fucking Frenchies.”

 

He quirks a brow at me as we leave the building. “Frenchies?”

 

Despite the situation I have to grin. “Didn 't you ever read ‘The Scarlet Pimpernel'?”

 

*****

 

I admit I’m a little surprised to find Michael sleeping on the living room sofa. I didn’t hear him come in last night and I've never slept through the sounds of my son coming home. So either I'm so fucking exhausted after two shifts at the diner, or I’m starting to go deaf. Since neither possibility is making me happy, I just accept the fact that Michael is sprawled on the couch and start noisily preparing coffee for Vic and me. 

 

Michael moans slightly before he blinks his eyes, then rubs them. “Ma?” 

 

“Who else would it be?” I snap, instantly hating myself for the harshness of my voice. But damn, my son is fucking 35 years old and falls asleep on his mother’s living room sofa instead of happily fucking someone male and gorgeous. It’s thoroughly depressing--and it can only mean one thing. Shit! “You had a fight with Brian.”

 

No, it’s not a question. Questions aren't necessary where these two are concerned. I’ve lived through it all my fucking life--okay, Michael’s life--and I’m so tired of it I want to scream. 

 

“What?” He seems so honestly puzzled that my heart does a somersault. 

 

“Then what happened?”

 

He blinks. “Happened?” 

 

“Yeah,” I turn away from the coffee maker and walk over to him. He has dark circles beneath his bleary eyes and he looks like shit. 

 

“Ma, what the fuck are you talking about?”

 

“I was talking about Brian. But you said it isn’t about Brian. So what happened?”

 

“Huh?” 

 

“What’s going on down there?” Vic yells down the stairs. “Did someone break in?”

 

“Kind of,” I tell him. “Michael slept on the sofa.”

 

Vic appears at the bottom of the stairs, his eyes full of concern. “Brian?” he mouths. 

 

I shake my head and look back at my son. “So, are you going to tell me, or do I need to extract it from your brain?”

 

“Geez--give a guy some time to wake up, will you?” Michael rubs his eyes again, then yawns. “I was walking around last night and somehow I ended up here. So instead of walking all the way back home, I thought I’d just spent the rest of the night on the sofa.”

 

“And why were you walking around all on your lonesome?” I know, I know, I’m nosy, but I’ve always been nosy. Couldn’t help it, even when I was only four years old. I was sitting at dinner with the family and I asked Aunt Lucia why she had so many wrinkles. As a result, she never came to visit us again, and my father gave me a big kiss because he hated the old hag. 

 

One thing I learned that night? Curiosity can be a good thing.

 

Michael yawns again and rolls his eyes at Vic, who chuckles and shrugs his shoulders. He’s known me since I was born. He’s long past trying to change me. “I had some kind of epiphany last yesterday, and I had some thinking to do.”

 

“Oh?” That from Vic who’s suddenly interested in the conversation. It’s something in Michael’s voice, I can’t really put a finger on it, but it makes me perk up as well.

 

“Yeah...ah...I was talking to Justin yesterday…”

 

“Justin.” He was talking to Justin. Wonders never cease. Holy shit. Maybe his so-called epiphany really is a good thing. 

 

“…Well, actually I went to see Brian...”

 

Ah. Brian. Didn’t I know it? I let out a silent sigh and exchange a knowing look with Vic. 

 

“…Anyway. Brian wasn’t there. So Justin, Emmett...and I…”

 

“Emmett?”

 

Michael lets out an exaggerated sigh. “That’s what I said, wasn’t it? Geez, Ma, pay attention. As I said...we were talking…Well, Em wasn’t really talking. He was playing with Mick….”

 

“Mick?” Vic has poured himself a cup of coffee by now and takes a small sip.

 

“Brian’s puppy,” Michael replies, then continues. “Then Brian came home and...well, I watched them together. Not the entire time, because they were in their bedroom for a long while...which is SO not important.”

 

“I would've watched them,” Vic throws in and Michael frowns at him. I’m inclined to do the same but let it go. Dirty old fags. What can you say?

 

“*Anyway*,” Michael gets back to the matter at hand. “I was watching them, you know, talking, looking at each other, and you know what I realized? They love each other.”

 

Hallelujah! Michael finally got it. They love each...wait a minute. My heart suddenly starts to hammer in my chest. “What did you just say?” I whisper. 

 

“I said,” he repeats. “They love each other. It’s so obvious. I mean, I knew Brian loved Justin, but Justin really loves him. It’s not just sex, or that he wants the stud of Liberty Avenue. He loves Brian. It’s kind of amazing if you think about it.”

 

“Why?” Vic asks, a smile playing around his lips. “You’ve loved him for as long as I can remember.”

 

“Yeah, sure, but Brian and I...I mean, it’s different. We’re...friends...buddies. We’re not fucking.”

 

Thank God for small favors. Or maybe thank Brian Kinney. Even though he can be a shit, he always saw what Michael so stubbornly refused to, and kept their relationship strictly platonic. 

 

“With Justin and Brian,” Michael goes on, “it’s different. They’ve been fucking each other from the start. I mean literally from day one. And still they came to love each other. That’s what I find so amazing.”

 

“You do?” Vic refills his cup and grins at me over its rim. “I’ve heard that a lot of relationships start out that way.”

 

“Yeah, but...Brian!” Michael exclaims as if it explains everything. And it probably does. If you think about it, it’s really truly amazing. Brian Kinney, the guy who always guarded his heart like Fort Knox fell for a twink, and fell so hard, he never recovered. I suddenly have to laugh, and Vic joins me after a moment.

 

“Huh?” Michael looks at us, then shakes his head. “What's the matter with you? Are you on something? 

 

“No,” I reply, wiping tears from my eyes. “No, Michael. But,” I walk over to hug him, “I’m so fucking proud of you.”

 

“Maaaa!” he shouts, wiggling out of my embrace. “Stop it.”

 

“I love you, Michael.” 

 

“Yeah, so?”

 

Again I laugh, and shake my head. “You want bacon and eggs?” I ask both the men in my life. I should feel depressed that one is my son, and the other my brother. Both of them gay. But, strangely, I’m not. Instead I feel light-hearted in a way I haven’t in years. I’m actually humming while I start fixing breakfast.

 

*****

 

Brian stands at the window, looking out over Paris bathed in darkness, the lit windows like twinkling lights, giving the city a peace and calm it doesn’t have during the day. He holds a barely-touched glass of whiskey in his hand. I know he thinks he should have been more persistent at the post office, but I’m glad he listened to me and didn’t get arrested. I’d have hated being alone in Paris, and it wouldn't have helped Gus if Brian had to spend a night in jail. 

 

We called Georgie the moment we returned to the hotel; she's promised to get us the information about Mel’s whereabouts tomorrow morning. Brian was so fucking mad about having to wait that I thought he was going to jump through the phone. Eventually he calmed down and even managed to eat a bite or two. But he’s been quiet and kind of distant, which I hate.

 

As if he’s sensing--and he probably is--that I’m watching him, he turns to me, looking devastatingly, heart-breakingly handsome, and my stomach flip-flops 

 

Slowly walking to him, I reach out and take the drink from his hand, setting it on the windowsill. His right brow goes up, his lips part slightly. I see his pupils widen, his eyes getting dark, and my cock twitches in my pants. We don’t touch, but I can almost feel the electricity crackle between us. Locking my eyes with his, I whisper, "Tu es si sexy."

 

The other brow goes up as well. “You think?”

 

“I thought you didn’t understand French.”

 

“Sexy is a pretty common word all over the planet.”

 

“Oui,” I tell him. "Tu es si sexy."

 

His hand comes up, and his palm touches my cheek. “Tu es si sexy.”

 

We both share a laugh. It’s very soft, very intimate. Our breaths are mingling, the scent of whiskey in his tickling my nostrils. "J'ai envie de te lécher de la tête aux pieds,” I whisper. After a moment I add, 

"J'ai envie de te goûter tout de suite."

 

Rising on my toes, I trail my lips over his neck, breathing in his scent, "Tu as l'odeur d'un parfum de luxe,” I tell him. "Ta peau est comme de la soie,j'ai envie de m'y enrouler et ne jamais

partir."

 

“That might prove a little complicated,” he chuckles. 

 

Ignoring his comment, I kiss his lips. "Tes lèvres sont comme la plus douce des drogues."

 

“And not as expensive as the real thing. Think I could bottle and sell it?”

 

“Mmmmm,” I murmur, kissing him again. His lips open slightly and I slip my tongue into his mouth, letting it glide over his teeth before I withdraw it again. 

 

Our eyes lock and I smile, “"Tes yeux sont si profonds que j'ai envie d'y plonger."

 

His smile is slow, but so beautiful, it makes my heart ache. "Je t'aime,” he whispers, and for the night we forget about Mel and Gus and Sara. Tonight is just for us.

 

...to be continued

 

Translation of the French sentences spoken in this chapter. 

 

In the Post Office:

 

“Sir, I’m sorry, but I don’t speak English.”

 

“I am really sorry, but…”

 

“We are looking for the owner of that phone number. We know the number is in Paris, but we don’t have the address.”

 

“I’m sorry. It’s a secret number. I can’t just give you the address.”

 

“You can yell all you want, Sir. I’m not going to give you the information. Please leave.”

 

“Sir, if you don’t stop yelling, I will call Security.”

 

 

Justin talking to Brian in their hotel suite:

 

“You are so fucking hot.”

 

“I want to lick you from top to bottom.”

 

“I want to taste you right now.”

 

“You smell like the most expensive perfume.”

 

“You skin is like silk, I want to wrap myself in it and never leave.”

 

“Your lips are the sweetest addiction.”

 

“Your eyes are so deep, I want to drown in them.”

 

“I love you.” 

 

My most grateful thanks go to Gégé and Lucille for the translation.

 

 

Author’s note: The book Brian mentions in this chapter, ‘The Scarlet Pimpernel', was written by Baroness D’Orczy in the 19 th century. It describes the adventures of an Englishman who used to travel to France during the French revolution to save French aristocrats from the Guillotine. The expression ‘Frenchies’ is taken from that book.


	7. Loose Ends

“Mick? Is that you, buddy? How are you, little mutt?”

I turn around at the sound of a beautiful voice and am pleasantly surprised when I see the owner. Or rather the back of his head as he’s currently bent over an enthusiastic puppy. The man’s dark hair looks like silk and my fingers twitch to touch it. He finally stands and the most startling pair of green eyes are looking at me through gold wire rimmed glasses. 

“Oh …” I'm tongue-tied. How embarrassing. I shake myself and clear my throat. “Do you happen to know Mick?” God, what a stupid question. He just called the dog by name, didn’t he?

The stranger smiles, revealing perfect white teeth. “Yes, we've met. He’s Brian’s dog.”

For some reason this irks me and I bristle a little. “And who would you be?”

He blushes charmingly and I feel my heart flutter. Oh dear!

“I’m so sorry,” he apologizes, holding out his hand to me. “I’m Peter Gray. I’m...I was Brian’s therapist.”

“His therapist?” For a moment I’m startled, then remember the mention of a therapist. It’s hard to believe. Brian-the-untouchable-Kinney seeing a therapist. Wait a minute...was? He *was* Brian’s therapist? As in past tense? 

“Yes,” he says, a guilty look entering his eyes. “Ah...maybe Brian didn’t mention me.”

Oh yes, the guy was Brian’s therapist. He’s already expecting the Kinney-wrath for spilling his guts. But those eyes...I sigh, and with embarrassment realize the sound wasn’t all that quiet. “No...I mean...Brian didn’t mention you, but we know he was seeing someone.”

Instant relief shows on his face. “What about you? How do you know Brian?” The blinding smile is back.

“I...ah …” And again with the speech impediment--I suddenly feel like a five year old. What the hell is happening to me? “I’m...Emmett. Emmett Honeycutt.”

“Emmett?” My name on his tongue sounds so sweet, and he didn’t even use my surname. “Yes, I remember Brian mentioning you.”

He did? Wonder what he told Peter about me? I hope it’s nothing bad. I really don’t want to make a bad impression. “Ah...I see.” God, now I sound like an idiot. He’s probably dying to get away from me. 

“How did Mick end up with you?” 

“Mick?” Jeez. Get a grip, Honeycutt! I feel my face flush, and try my best smile. “Brian and Justin had to leave. They couldn’t take Mick to Paris, so I got dog-sitting duty.”

“They left for Paris? Paris, France?”

And isn’t he a little too interested all of a sudden? But Christ, those eyes! I was never good at keeping a secret, and standing in front of Peter Gray isn't helping. No wonder the guy is a good therapist. Why would I know he’s good? Well, would Brian go to a bad therapist? “Yes …It was a private matter. I’m afraid it was rather sudden.”

“No problem, I hope?”

I see the concern in those green eyes and...“I’m not supposed to tell, but,” leaning forward, I lower my voice to a conspiratorial whisper, getting a whiff of Peter’s very unique scent as a bonus, “Melanie left the country with the children. Somehow they ended up in Paris. It seems Gus isn’t all that happy and he called Brian to come and get him.”

Peter follows my story with interest and when he realized I’m done, he nods. “Paris. Well, I hope everything works out. And now you’re stuck with Mick?”

Stuck with? “Oh no, it's a pleasure having him around.” God, those eyes! They’re *so* green! Getting a little bolder, I give him a slightly flirtatious smile. "As a matter of fact, I get to meet the most interesting men through him. I’m considering getting a dog of my own as soon as Brian and Justin get back.”

Mick whines at that, and instantly feeling guilty, I bend down to pet him. “That doesn’t mean I won’t love you anymore,” I reassure him, pleased when his adoring pink tongue licks my hand. I hear a soft chuckle from above and look up. “He’s very sensitive,” I tell Peter, not caring that I sound a tad defensive. 

“I didn’t mean to offend you. Of course I know that pets can be very sensitive. I’m just...enjoying the way you interact with him.”

“You are?” Frankly, I’m stunned. So often people ridicule me for the way I behave. Giving Mick a final stroke over his soft fur, I stand and Peter and I simply look at each other. It seems we’ve run out of words, and I feel a sudden fear that he’s going to say good-bye the next moment. He’s just too good to be true. Don't get me wrong, I’ve had some lovely relationships. Teddy was and is very close to my heart, as was George. Even some of the others were quite remarkable. Call me an eternal romantic, but now that Brian and Justin are back together I find myself searching for that special someone in my life. Someone to share it with, someone who's part of it, not just passing through. 

And here stands Peter Gray, with his green eyes, his silky dark hair, and I’m half way in love already. But I’m also scared. I mean, here I am, Emmett Honeycutt. I’m not bad looking, I stay in shape, I’m witty, but he’s a doctor--and frankly, what would a doctor want with me? I barely made it through high school. 

Besides, we've just met. I’m already getting ahead of myself--again. Teddy would scold me if he were here. I barely know this man and I’m already planning a future with him. 

“Well.” Peter says the dreaded word, and in a desperate attempt to keep him with me for a little longer, I cough slightly. “Ah...uh...so you said you were Brian’s therapist.”

Do I imagine it, or is he relieved that our time’s not over yet? The flicker in his eyes gives me hope. “Yes,” he says, “I was. And Justin’s too.” He sounds a little wistful. “For a while, at least.”

“I still can’t believe what that asshole Ethan did to him,” I reply, thinking that one can never know people. I’d have bet my ass that Ethan adored Justin, that he was just right for him after all the shit Brian put him through. And look what happened! 

Peter nods, but he’s a little hesitant, “I really can’t talk about this, Emmett. It would be a breach of doctor-patient confidentiality, you understand.”

“Of course,” I reply quickly, wondering about the quick flash of sadness in Peter’s eyes at the mention of Justin’s name, and why Brian and Justin stopped going to him.

“Would you...ah.” It’s his turn to clear his throat. “I mean, would you care for a cup of coffee or something?”

He wants me to have coffee with him? “Oh! I mean, yes. Very much.” God, could I maybe sound a little less eager. He must think I'm desperate, but I decide I don’t care. Instead I put an arm around his shoulder and wink at him. “Tell me, honey. Do you know the Liberty Diner?”

*****

I keep my hand on Brian’s arm as the elevator climbs. Brian first wanted to take the stairs, insisting that he was getting fat already, missing his regular workouts. Using my very *unique* methods of persuasion, I managed to convince him that he was still as beautiful as ever. Frankly, I was a little scared all the exercise would raise his blood pressure and he would explode as soon as he came face to face with Mel. 

I can feel the tension in the coiled muscles of his arm and squeeze it gently. I want to say something, but I’m not sure anything would get through to him right now. Ever since Georgie called this morning, he seems closed off, inwardly preparing himself for a bad blow. 

Like finding Gus dissolved in tears--or worse.

The elevator comes to a halt and the doors slide open. We both take a deep breath and step into the hallway, finding the right door easily. 

Then something happens that once again shows me how far Brian and I have come. He takes my hand, but instead of pushing it away, , he clasps it for a moment and entwines our fingers. We don’t look at each other, but it’s not necessary. We both know, and I have to blink hard to keep tears from falling. They’re not bad tears, quite the opposite actually, but they would be out of place nevertheless. Brian needs me now, he needs my strength, not some teary queen who can’t keep himself together.

He rings the bell, and we hear voices from the inside, one a little high pitched, like that of a young child and beside me Brian draws a sharp breath. 

“It’s okay,” I murmur, squeezing his fingers. “It’ll be okay.”

“How can it be okay?” he asks through clenched teeth. 

“Because we’re here now.”

He snorts at that. “Don’t try to make us into comic book heroes, Justin. I’m not Rage and you’re not J.T. This is real life.”

“I know that. But Gus needs to know you love him. It’ll help. I promise. And I can promise it because I know it first hand.”

He's silent for a moment, then I feel a slight shudder go through him. “I’d like to be with you somewhere private now,” he whispers.

My groin tightens, but before I can dwell on it, the door opens and reveals a woman in her late forties or early fifties, the thick lenses in her hideous eyeglasses making her eyes look huge. Her nose is long and sharp, her hair is in a messy pile on top of her head, and even though she’s shorter than me, she seems to look down on us.

“Oui?”

Georgie’s assured us that the woman understands English, so Brian doesn’t bother with the three words of French he knows, “Madame Weinberg?”

Her gaze turns a little puzzled, but her huge eyes are suspicious. “Oui? Je suis Madame Weinberg. Et tu?” 

But before Brian can introduce himself, we hear a loud “DAD!” and a small bundle hurls himself at him, clinging as if his life depends on it. 

Brian’s arms instantly close around the bundle, lifiting it into his arms. “Gus,” he exclaims, holding the boy close, stroking his back soothingly. “Gus.”

“Dad!” There is a bit of a sniffle in Gus’s voice, and he heaves several deep breaths as he absorbs the fact that his father is, in fact, here. 

Tearing my gaze away from the scene before me, I turn my head in an attempt to communicate with Madame Weinberg, but I'm stunned to see her eyes shooting daggers at father and son. “Release him!” she orders. “Release the child this very instant.”

“No,” Brian replies, not taking his attention from Gus, whose face is tear streaked, but a lot happier now that he finds himself safely in Brian’s arms. 

“Monsieur, if you don’t release the child this very moment-“

“No!” Gus wails. “I want to stay with you, Dad.”

“Dad?” The woman scrunches her nose. “So you are the one. You are this Kinney person.” She wags a bony finger at Brian. “You hurt my niece. You are not fit to see your child.”

“Oh yeah?” Brian stares at her over Gus’s head. Uh-oh. This is not good. There is murder in his eyes and I quickly jump in to prevent bloodshed. 

“Uhm...Helene? As you said. Brian is Gus’ father and they missed each other. Can we maybe speak to Melanie?”

“Melanie is out. She left me in care of the children. And you will leave now!” She reaches out to remove Gus from Brian’s arm, but the boy clings even more tightly to his father’s neck.

“No,” the boy wails again. “I don’t want to stay with her.” Two pairs of hazel eyes meet. “Dad, I wanna come with you.”

“You, young man,” Helene says sternly, “will come to me this very instant. Your mother will not approve of this.”

“I don’t give a fuck if Mel approves,” Brian hisses. “Justin, get the baby.”

“What?” I stare at him. 

“I said,” he replies very slowly, “get the baby.”

Oh fuck. “But Brian--“

“Do it.” His voice is very soft, almost pleading. The bastard knows only too well I can’t resist him. Giving the woman in the door a long look, I enter the apartment and the faint cries lead me to Sara. I finally find her in a crib, face all scrunched up. “Hey, baby girl,” I coo, lifting her cautiously. She stops crying the moment I set her on my shoulder. Walking back to the entrance I look at Brian. “What now? We can’t just take the children.”

“We can’t? Just wait and see.”

“I am going to inform the police,” Helene threatens. “You can't just kidnap Melanie’s children.”

“They’re mine too,” Brian tells her firmly. “In fact, they are mine much more than they are hers. It might not be what the law says, but if it weren't for my sperm donation, they wouldn't be here.”

Helene wrinkles her nose in distaste at the word ‘sperm’, but catches herself quickly. “I told Melanie this whole thing was impossible.” A long sigh follows, “Why couldn’t she just find herself a nice man and marry like every other woman?”

“Because she’s a lesbian?” I know I’m stating the obvious, but maybe she needs to hear it. Sara makes a little noise and I look at her. Believe it or not, she’s fallen asleep in my arms. It makes me feel all warm and wonderful inside. 

“Yes, it’s very unfortunate,” Helene agrees. “But it can be fought. My Rabbi told me--“

“Save it,” Brian snaps. “You sound exactly like my mother. And one is enough for my peace of mind.” His gaze turns to me. “Is she okay?”

“Fine,” I assure him, patting the baby’s bottom. “But Brian--“

“We’re leaving. Call the police, call Melanie,” he tells Helene. “Do whatever you want, but I’m taking the children now.”

“Monsieur Kinney.“ she protests, but it’s a lot less forceful than before and I can’t help but wonder if she’s hoping Melanie will finally come around to her way of thinking once Gus and Sara are gone. 

“Brian, we need diapers or something,” I remind him.

“All taken care of,” he informs me with a small smirk. 

Huh? “I see.” But I don’t. But this is Brian--if I’ve learned one thing, it’s that he can do the impossible. 

“Give Melanie my best,” he tells Helene, then reaches into his suit jacket and holds out a card to her. “She can reach me at this number, if she wants to talk.”

Feeling awkward, and still holding the baby, I give the woman a smile. “Thanks...uh...for your time.” It sounds silly, and I’m *so* going to kill Brian for this.

***

When we reach the street there's a car with a driver waiting for us. 

“Wha-“ I stare at Brian. Didn’t I tell you--the king of the impossible.

“Close your mouth, Sunshine,” he smirks at me. “Get in.”

Still holding the baby, I do as he says and Brian climbs in behind me. “What’s going on here?” I ask as the female driver pulls away from the curb. 

“Justin, meet Anna. Anna, this is Justin.”

“Hello Justin,” she smiles at me through the rear mirror. “Nice to meet you.”

“Hey,” I reply weakly, feeling totally overwhelmed. “So?” 

“So--Anna is an employee of Mario Corelli. He's president of the company I told you about.”

“Corelli?” Confused my gaze skips from Anna to Brian and back to Anna. “That sounds …,” and my eyes widen, “Italian. Are you talking about the guys in Tuscany? Is that where we’re going? Brian! We can’t just take the children to Italy. It’s bad enough we took them without Melanie’s consent.”

His right eyebrow goes up. “Calm down, Justin. Breathe slowly.”

Oh right. I’m practically hyperventilating. After several deep breaths, I don’t feel any better. “Brian--“

“Justin, Mel isn’t going to do a damned thing. Besides, this is the European Community. It’s not as if I’m taking the kids to Morocco.”

“Why isn’t she going to do anything?” I ask, still lost. Mel is a lawyer. She could sue us until we bleed. 

“Because she isn’t stupid.” He doesn’t elaborate. “Now, lean back. We have quite a drive ahead of us.” He shifts Gus in his lap and I see that the boy has fallen asleep. Dried tear tracks are visible on his face. 

“We need to change the baby at some point.”

“All taken care of,” Brian replies, leaning back in his seat. “Relax, Justin. Nothing’s going to happen. Mel might be a bitch, but she’s not dumb. If she really slapped Gus, she knows we can use it against her. And Gus is unhappy. I doubt she missed seeing that. She'll call me, you’ll see.”

He seems so confident that everything’s going to be alright that I start believing it too. So I finally lean back and let the faint noise of the car lull me to sleep.


	8. Loose Ends

I’ve read a lot about the Tuscan landscape but I never imagined it to be like this. Justin’s fallen asleep again beside me while Anna expertly drives the car through the narrow lanes that will lead us to our destination. It’s late, and we’ve been driving all day, but I’m too wired to close my eyes. Gus is still asleep on my lap, having taking my left leg with him. I haven’t felt it for hours and there’ll be hell to pay when we arrive. I have to chuckle a little and let my gaze flicker to my daughter who snores softly in Justin’s arms. Even in his sleep he hasn’t let go of her. 

“You’re not tired, Mr. Kinney?” 

I look up and find Anna watching me through the rear mirror, her eyes luminous in the darkened interior. With her classical nose, a full mouth and curly hair that goes on forever, she is a beautiful woman – if I was into that kind of thing. The mere thought makes me shudder a little. Yes, I can still appreciate beauty when I see it. 

“My body feels tired, and my leg’s been asleep for hours, but I can’t seem to rest,” I tell her and she chuckles. “You’ve been working for the Castellani-brothers for how long?”

“Three years,” she replies, slowing down as we enter another of the numerous small villages we’ve been through on our way to our destination. Mel’s never going to find us here – heck, I’m not even sure I’d find my way back. It’s like going through a fucking labyrinth. 

“You like it?” Not that I really care, but it gives me something to do besides thinking about Mel and what she’s going to do next. Despite my assurances to Justin I don’t kid myself for a moment. She’s probably already filed an order for my arrest – fucking bitch. 

“It’s good work. And the payment is far above the average. They’ve been very successful. Organic produce is what people want in Europe. The business is increasing all the time. Plus their products are excellent.” She grins a little, obviously realizing that she’s sounding like a living ad. 

Her smile is nice, her teeth very white in the darkness. “Are you from around here?” I ask.

“No.” She shakes her head and her hair flies. “I was born in a little village near Rome. But there was no work and no future.”

There’s something in her voice that has my ears perking up. But I’m not going to ask, she is still a stranger after all. “Rome must be fascinating.” I always wanted to go there, but somehow never made it. Maybe while we’re here …

She laughs, “She’s big and loud and it stinks. And I love her with all my heart. All Italians do. And we’re really proud of her, so don’t even think of insulting the old lady.”

“Old lady, huh?” I have to laugh as well. 

“She has more than two thousand years, has seen more than any of us ever will,” Anna tells me seriously, and I haven’t missed the fact that she addresses Rome as a woman. Her voice turns wistful, “I miss her all the time.”

I know all about missing. Far more than I ever cared for. But life is no fairytale, and I’m the living proof. “Do you still have family there?”

She laughs, “I’m Italian, eh?” Again her curls fly, “Three brothers and two sisters.”

“A big family.”

“Yes,” she agrees. “My oldest brother lives in New York.”

I give her a cheeky grin, “Mafia?”

Her eyes crinkle at the corners. “He has a restaurant. I was there once. Very fancy.”

“Your English is very good.” There is no accent present at all, which has me wondering.

“My Mama was born in York. In England.”

“Ah.” That explains it. “So you grew up with two languages?”

“Yes.” I see her gaze flicker in the rear mirror, then back to me. “Mr. Taylor is waking up.”

I turn my head, and there is a blue eye blinking at me. “W-where are we?” he asks sleepily, shifting slightly. I bite my lip to hide a grin. His shoulder’s probably asleep, just like my leg. And Sara’s been drooling all over his jacket. 

“Almost there,” I tell him, trying to get a little more comfortable without waking Gus, whose face looks relaxed, just like a little boy should. 

Justin rubs his eyes and smacks his lips, then licks them which, even now, makes me hard in an instant. Not that anyone would notice, with Gus hanging all over me. “Where is there?” my blond lover wants to know.

“About six kilometers outside of Montalcino,” Anna explains, smiling at him through the mirror. “Which is a little town near Siena.”

“Ah,” Justin says, frowning a little. “There’s lots of art in Siena,” he adds more to himself.

Anna nods enthusiastically. “Yes. It’s famous. Some say it’s the most beautiful city in the Toscana.”

“Toscana?” 

“Tuscany,” she says. “Toscana is the Italian name. You should go there while you’re here. You’re going to love it.”

Justin nods, then glances at Sara. He raises a hand and his fingertips touch the soft strands on her head. “She’s still out cold.”

“She probably likes being in your arms.” I smile at him, “I don’t blame her.”

He smiles back, but grows serious again, “You think Mel’s already informed the police?”

I shrug, trying to seem not as concerned as I truly am. I know I had no legal rights to take my children, and I know that I’m probably in a whole lot of trouble – but what else is new? “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” He sounds incredulous, obviously not buying my shit. “You know as well as I do that she’s going to come after you with guns drawn.”

I wince at the image, although Mel as a shooter somehow fits, and sigh. “Probably. She sure as hell’s going to be pissed.”

He snorts. “She’s going to tar and feather you.”

“She has to find us first.”

Anna chuckles at that, and I grin at her. Justin, on the other hand, is furious. “This is no joke, Brian. You kidnapped her children.”

“My children,” I snap. “They’re mine more than they’ll ever be hers.”

“Not for the law,” he snaps right back. “You know that. For a judge it doesn’t matter. You’re a gay man living in a gay relationship. You know what they think of us,” he says hotly. 

He’s right, of course. We both know what they think of us. Not just because we’ve been living it each day, but also because we’ve both experienced it first hand. Chris Hobbs almost killed him and got off with community service. What a joke. If it had been the other way around, Justin would probably still rot in jail. 

“Justin-“

“Don’t ‘Justin’ me,” he hisses. “I’m not some dumb kid anymore. I just got you back. I’m not going to lose you again because of this shit.”

I reach out and put my hand on his arm. “You’re not going to lose me. Nobody’s going to send me to jail for this.”

He sniffs a little, more annoyed than really scared, I think. “It’s just that … that Mel’s always been so angry with you. I mean, I never thought she’d take the kids in the first place. But she did. What else is she gonna do?”

“Maybe she could calm down?”

At that Justin snorts and frankly, I agree. She’s not likely to calm down. She’s always hated me. Well, resented me at best. And I admit that for a long time I enjoyed riling her, which didn’t help at all. Looking back, I sometimes wonder how Linds could stand it. She was always between us, always trying to keep the peace. She was amazing at it, but it must have been hard. And I don’t even want to know what Mel said when Linds decided to have another child with me. 

“I couldn’t help overhearing,” Anna says quietly. “But maybe you could talk to Signore Cantano. He is a lawyer and works with the Castellani-brothers.”

“Good idea,” I jump on it and send her a grateful glance. “See,” I turned my gaze back to my lover. “I’m going to talk to this lawyer and everything will work out.”

He groans, as if he’s got a sudden headache. “I shouldn’t have let you do this,” he moans. “But you kind of surprised me. I thought we were going to check on Gus and Sara, not kidnap them.”

I let my brows raise, “You think you could’ve stopped me?”

That results in a heavy sigh. “Probably not.” Annoyed blue eyes find Anna’s, “He’s the most stubborn man I’ve ever met.”

“He’s Irish, si?” she asks with a twinkle.

“Stubborn as mules,” I say, winking at her.

“This is not helping,” he grits out, glaring at me. Sara starts to move on his shoulder, probably sensing his distress. He instantly catches himself and pats her back soothingly. “Everything’s alright, baby girl.”

Not quite convinced, my daughter makes little smacking noises. 

“Uh-oh,” Anna laughs. “I think someone’s hungry. But don’t worry, we’ll be there in two minutes.” As on cue, she turns left and enters an alley that’s flanked by huge pine trees as we drive down towards what only can be lightened windows. “There,” she says. “That’s the main house. Luciana will be thrilled to help you with the children. She raised the Castellani brothers after their mother died and she’s a real Italian Mama even though she doesn’t have kids of her own.”

The car comes to a stop in front of huge wooden doors that open only a moment later, revealing a man in his forties and a woman who seems to be the embodiment of the Italian Mama. That has to be Luciana. 

Another man appears behind her, tall and maybe in his early twenties, and hurries to open the door at my side of the car. 

“Welcome, Mr. Kinney,” the man in his forties steps forward. “I’m Angelo Castellani.” He looks at the young man, “This is my son, Marco.”

“Signore Castellani,” I greet him back, trying to get my sleeping foot to move, but it refuses stubbornly. Shifting Gus in my arms, I struggle to change my position when Luciana is suddenly at my side and lifts my son into her substantial embrace. 

“Oh, poor bambino,” she croons in an heavily accented English. “He must be exhausted.”

“It’s been a long day for all of us,” I agree, and keep an eye on Gus, who is snuggling close to Luciana, obviously no care in the world. 

“Anna drove you safely, I assume?” Castellani inquires.

“She was perfect,” I hear Justin pipe up. He climbed from the car, still holding Sara and is now standing next to Luciana, looking like a little boy in comparison to her. 

This time I snort, “You slept almost all the way.” 

“Good for you,” Luciana smiles at the blond, having adopted Justin right along with Gus it seems. “Well,” she turns her dark eyes to me, “come into the house. We all have been waiting for you to arrive. There’s food and wine.”

“Yum.” Justin licks his lips, and laughing we all enter the Tuscan villa.

*****

“Would you please calm down already!”

“I am calm,” I snap, keeping my eyes firmly on the darkness outside. If I look at her, I might kill her after all. 

“Yes, I can see that,” she says and I couldn’t miss the sarcasm even if I tried. 

And I finally have enough. “And whose fault is that?” I ask, slowly turning back to her, my hands balled into fists, buried deep in the pockets of my jeans. “I can’t believe you let him take my kids. And just let him leave like that.”

“He is a very convincing man,” Helene replies, her voice as sharp as her pointy nose. 

“Yeah,” I snort. “I bet that’s the reason.”

“He is the children’s father,” she reminds me. As if I needed a reminder. It isn’t something I’ll ever forget. And it’s all Linds’ fault, dammit. She and her damn obsession with Brian, refusing to even consider using another man to father her child. It was Brian or nobody. Almost unconsciously my hand comes to lie on top of my stomach. My barren stomach. Maybe things would be different if my baby was alive. 

“I am sure he’ll treat them well.”

“That’s not the point,” I grit out. Of course, Brian’s going to treat the kids well. I never doubted that. He loves them, as much as I hate to admit it. Or rather, he loves Gus. I never had the opportunity to watch him with S … the baby to know what he feels for her. But he’d never treat them badly. “They’re my children.”

“No,” Helene says slowly. “They’re not. By law maybe. But nature-“

“Stop right there,” I interrupt her. I’m really not up to listening to her laws of nature. If it was up to her all gays and lesbians would burn on the stake. “They *are* my children. I love them. I raise them. I was married to their biological mother-“

“Married!” she exclaims, laughing in a way that makes me want to strangle her. “There is no marriage possible between women. God never-“

“You have no idea what God wants,” I shoot back. “You never talked to him, did you?”

Her eyes widen and her nostrils flare, giving her face a most funny look. “I won’t listen to that kind of talk.” She shakes her head as if she can’t believe what’s happening. Welcome to my world. “What on earth happened to that well raised Jewish girl I met all those years ago.”

“She grew up and realized that a happy home and a husband weren’t made for her.” I still remember my father almost bursting a vessel when he found out I was attracted to women. He didn’t talk to me for three months. Until the day he died our relationship was strained, and my mother couldn’t wait to tell me that my revelation was part of the reason he had his stroke. She hasn’t talked to me since. 

“Your poor mother,” Helene says. “Your poor, poor mother.”

“Not so poor,” I remind her, thinking of all the money I’ll never have. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t really care for the money. But it’s another sign of how much my own mother dislikes me. 

“Well,” Helene straightens and removes her glasses. “I am going to bed now. You should lie down as well. Try to sleep. Things will be better tomorrow.” 

I hear her footsteps down the hall, then a door opens and closes. I turn back to the window and stare into the darkness, as if hoping to find answers for too many questions. I wish Linds was here by my side, wish that she could tell me what to do. But she isn’t. She won’t ever be again. Pressing thumb and forefinger on my closed eyes I sigh. There are no tears left, and they wouldn’t help anyway. I’m on my own, and it’s up to me to decide. 

Opening my eyes I press my palms against the cool glass of the window and keep staring outside. Never before in my life I felt more alone.


	9. Loose Ends

“What? Can you talk a little louder, I can hardly understand a word. What? … Mel. Slow down! Honey … What?”

I roll my eyes and wonder if Mel is already deaf due to Mom screeching through the receiver. Emmett grins, but his gaze is serious, his attention on the conversation behind us. 

“Where are you? … In Paris? What the fuck are you doing in Paris? We were all sick with worry. Now, don’t Debbie me, Missy. I’m pissed. … Yes, I said pissed. … Excuse me? No, I don’t know where Brian and Justin are. They left town a few days ago, but… In Paris?” 

She turns to us and I can see the frown on her face, her brows tightly knit together. “I wonder what this is all about? What do you think Brian did?” I ask Em in a whisper, but he just shakes his head, while Mom drones on about Mel and Paris and the kids. I feel a stab of guilt, it was us after all who gave Brian the hint about the children. And with Brian you never know. He could do something really stupid. Like taking-

“Brian took his kids and disappeared.”

Mom’s voice interrupts my musings and looking up I realize she finished her phone call with Mel. 

“What?” Emmett’s eyes are wide with shock. “Disappeared?”

Mom sighs and joins us at the table. Sitting down heavily, exhaustion written all over her features, she wipes her palm over her face, “That’s what she says. From what I could understand, Brian and Justin showed up at her aunt’s apartment. She’s been staying with her aunt these past days. Anyway, they came, took the kids and now they’re gone, destination unknown.”

“You mean they kidnapped the children?” Emmett’s voice is incredulous, but also a little awed. There was always a fascination in him where Brian is concerned. “Just like that?”

“So Mel says,” Mom confirms. She shakes her head, “Dammit, if Brian would just think once before he acts. And now he even pulled Sunshine into his mess.”

I stare at her, “Now, wait a minute. Justin is a grown up. And he gets into a mess all by himself. Don’t make it Brian’s fault.”

“And you stop defending him,” she snaps, pointing a red painted finger at me. “I thought you were over this shit. If I didn’t know it better, I’d think you are involved in the whole mess.”

I clear my throat, “Oh, come on, Mom. How would I be involved? I’m here. In good old Pittsburgh. Like Emmett. Like Ted.”

Her eyes narrow, “Michael?”

Damn. “So? We gave him a phone number from Paris.” Unconsciously my voice turns defensive, “That’s really all we did. Besides, Brian found out everything by himself. He hired a Private Investigator.”

“Uh …,” Emmett smiles weakly. “We kind of broke into Mel’s house, remember,” he says.

“You did what?” Mom almost shouts and I wince when the impact hits my eardrums. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“Look,” I stand up and start to pace the living room. “After Ted fucked up, it was our duty to-“

“Stay out of the whole damn thing,” Mom hisses. But after a moment, she sighs loudly and leans back in her chair. “I could as well order you to cut off your right leg. Shit!”

I see the compassionate look Emmett gives her and stop dead in my tracks. “This is such bullshit. I’m long over my … whatever it was I felt for Brian.” They stare at me incredulously and I roll my eyes, “I am!” I just wish I was so sure, but I go on, “Anyway. After the stunt Mel pulled, Brian has every right to take his kids. Just ask Emmett, Gus told him Mel hit him.”

“That’s true,” Emmett confirms, fetching an apple from the table and starting to chew on it. 

“Be that as it may,” Mom says, looking at me sternly. “But I still want you to stay out of this. Why don’t you concentrate on your business and Carl instead.”

Carl? I can’t believe she’s still thinking Carl and I … “Carl has a new lover. Besides, I’m not going to run after a guy.”

“One of Brian’s statements.” Thanks, Em. Thanks so much.

“So?” I glare at him. “He’s right. A relationship is fucked up if running is necessary. So why fight for it.”

“You know,” he tilts his head and seems to contemplate me, “you really are starting to sound like the Big Bad. Kind of scary, if you ask me.”

Mom just shakes her head as if she’s given up. Geez. Thanks for the show of confidence. “Okay, let’s not talk about Brian. What about Gus and the baby? You really want them with someone as unstable as Mel?” I wait for reactions, but get none. “Believe me, I really wanted that baby, but right now I’m actually glad it didn’t work out.”

“Michael Novotny!” Mom stares at me in shock. “That’s a very shitty thing to say. That girl suffered when she lost that baby. Maybe she wouldn’t be where she is today if things were different.”

Yeah, and if Mercury was in retrograde, I’d be reborn. “Mom, she’s always hated Brian. Okay, resented him then. But fact is, she’s never gotten over her jealousy. Linds and Brian shared something special. They knew each other well and she was the last woman he fucked. It’s not his fault Linds never really got over her feelings for him.”

Mom sighs. Emmett chews his lower lip, then, once again, takes a bite from his apple. And at the same moment my cell phone rings. 

“Yes,” I answer curtly, hating the interruption, now that I’ve gotten warmed up on the subject. 

“Tell me where he is!”

I close my eyes for a moment, then open them again. The voice is slurred, but it’s still easy to recognize. “I don’t know,” I say slowly. 

“You’re a damned liar. He’d always tell you.”

I wish with all my heart it was true. But sadly, it isn’t. Not anymore. “Mel, I have no idea where Brian is, I swear.”

She laughs. It sounds hollow and unhappy. “Is that where you’ll add, that even if you did, you wouldn’t tell me.”

“No,” I shake my head and my eyes meet my mother’s. “I’m not sure what I’d do if I know. But fact is, I don’t.” She says nothing. “Mel … what’s the matter with you? Have you been drinking?”

“What do you care?” she asks, sounding a little clearer. Maybe it was just the connection. I’d prefer to believe that, even though I have a hard time to. 

“You’re my friend.”

Her laugh is harsh. “Oh, that’s rich. No, Michael. *He* is your friend. Has always been. He was always the first. For her, too.”

“That’s bullshit, Mel. Linds loved you.”

“And yet, she wanted *him* to be the father of her kids – against my wishes, I may add.”

And what the fuck am I supposed to do about it? I’m certainly not the right person for this. For once, because, well, I’m kind of biased. I think Linds couldn’t have chosen a better father for her children. Brian’ll never abandon them, he’ll always be there for them, always support them. I should know better than anyone what kind of man he is. 

“What?” she taunts. “No answers?”

“Mel, it’s kind of late, you know. And I’m not going to listen to you abusing me through the phone. Get sober, get help. If you ask me, you’re far from fit to care for two small children.” Fed up with her I hang up and take a deep breath to keep myself from screaming out loud. 

“What was that?” Mom asks.

“That,” I reply, “was Melanie Marcus. And if I’m not mistaken, she was either drunk or stoned.” Fuck! I walk to the fridge and find a bottle of cold beer. I just wish I could reach Brian. Because I think he doesn’t have a clue what he’s started.

*****

“Fuck.”

I have to grin. For one, because Brian simply looks adorable, all rumpled and blinking blearily against the brightly lit kitchen, and also because I see Luciana’s raised brows at his language while she’s busy cooing and feeling Sara. 

“Dad!” Gus cries happily, jumping from my lap and running over to his father, who just in time manages to open his arms. “You’re all up.”

“Yeah, up,” Brian says, stifling a yawn. It’s almost noon, the sun is already up, and the kitchen smells of herbs and food. “What time is it.”

“Half past eleven,” I tell him, not trying to hide my grin. He glares at me, and I laugh. “Don’t be so grumpy. When I left you still slept like a baby.”

He finally finds the coffee and pours himself a cup. “When *did* you leave?”

“Around ten,” I tell him, holding my cup out for a refill. When I got up the house was empty, apart from Luciana, and I found her by following my nose. Obviously Brian did the same. Everything in this house is very informal. Last night we were treated to a midnight dinner, then showed to our rooms and told that as soon as we woke up, we should just look for the kitchen. Luciana then told me that Angelo and Marco were outside on the fields and were not going to return until past noon. 

“God, this is good,” Brian closes his eyes, savoring the strong coffee and I see Luciana blush with pride. 

“Dad?” Gus is tugging at his father’s sleeve. “Can we go outside later?”

“Sure,” Brian replies, still trying to come fully awake. Again, I have to smother a grin, while my cock leaps in my pants. But damn, Brian’s so sexy, it should be illegal to look like this just after waking up. 

“Your bambini are … how do you say … beautiful,” Luciana says, shifting Sara to burp her. She pats the baby’s back and smiles when we all hear the telltale noise. 

“Just like their father,” I say, blushing when Luciana grins at me and winks. Winks! She has to be at least sixty, and she’s living in the Italian countryside, and seems totally okay with a gay couple. “I think we’re going to move here,” I blurt out, hardly able to hide my surprise.

“Huh?” Brian blinks at me. 

“You should have babies as well, Justin,” Luciana tells me. “They would be beautiful, too. Italians think blond and blue eyed is the epitome of beauty.”

“I thought that only worked with women,” Brian yawns, and quickly covers it up by rising his cup to his mouth. 

Luciana snorts, “Are only men allowed to admire beauty?”

We all share a laugh when the back door opens and Marco comes inside. He’s wearing nothing but jeans and his well built torso is covered with sweat, while his dark hair is wet and slicked back from his face. Brian’s gaze wanders over him appreciatively, but strangely I don’t feel threatened anymore. 

“Ah, Mr. Kinney, you’re finally up.”

“Up, yeah,” Brian murmurs and I hide a grin at the double entendre. 

“Hi, Gus,” Marco says, smiling at the boy who stares up at him. 

“Hi,” he replies a little shyly, pressing himself close to his father’s leg. I frown, wondering what it means. Gus used to be such an outgoing child, and all of a sudden he’s developed shyness? I make a mental note, to talk to Brian about it as soon as we’re alone. 

“My father is still in the wine-yard,” Marco tells Brian. “But he wants to talk to you after lunch, if you are free.”

Brian shrugs at that, and takes another sip from his coffee. “He invited me to work for him.”

“True,” Marco grins again, this time at me. “You could use a little sun. You’re pale like fresh Morzarella.”

“Don’t compare our guests to cheese, Marco,” Luciana chides, clucking her tongue. “He’s always been trouble, this one,” she then tells us, nodding in Marco’s direction. There is a world of affection in her voice and for a moment I find myself envying the man. I know, it’s maybe ungrateful because my mother always loved me, but our relationship was never this easy. “Justin here has to be mindful of the sun, or his beautiful skin will burn.”

“Uh-huh,” Marco chuckles. “He could do with a little color.”

“I like him the way he is,” Brian says, watching me through heavy lidded eyes. Only now I realize that he’s been watching me all along, and there is no mistaking the heat in his gaze. 

I swallow. Hard. “Uh …”

“How old are you, Justin?” Luciana asks suddenly. 

“Oh no, you’re not going to start that again.” Marco holds up both hands, palms out. “We’re not even going there.” He turns his gaze to me and I have to smother a grin at the look of unveiled panic. “Don’t answer it.”

“He doesn’t even know the question,” Luciana snorts.

“He doesn’t have to. I know what’s going to come. You’re going to compare our ages and then you’re going to remind me that I have to find a nice girl, settle down, have lots of bambini to continue the family tradition.”

“You should. Justin here lives in a committed partnership. All you can show are a string of bimbos.” She holds her head regally and I wonder if the wrath of God is coming down on Marco any minute now. 

He sighs, “Please, can’t you just leave it alone? I’m only 22. I have enough time to find the right woman.”

“I agree,” Brian comes to his rescue. “Look at me. I needed a long time to realize what I wanted.” His eyes settle on me, once again, “But it was worth every minute of the wait.”

“Ah …” I feel my face heating up, know that I’ve gotten red up to my ears. I’m just not used to hear such open praise, especially where Brian is concerned. He’s usually the most close mouthed man I know, and rarely shows any affection in public. Maybe it’s the Tuscan air, or the sun, but whatever it is, I wonder if I could bottle it. 

“Take a look at them,” Luciana says, shooting daggers at Marco. “Take a good look at them.” Then she stands and, still holding Sara on her shoulder, leaves the kitchen.

We three look at each other, and after another moment burst out laughing.

*****

“What do you mean, you can’t help me?” the woman shouts, her eyes blazing fire, her hair standing on end. “The fucking asshole took my kids.”

“I understand that you’re upset-“ I start, but she interrupts me instantly. 

“I’m not upset, I’m long past being upset. I’m fucking, raving mad.”

“I’m aware of that,” I say, summoning every ounce of my training, trying to stay calm and polite, but it’s hard work. “And I also understand your problem. Still, there is nothing we can do.” She stares at me, saying nothing and I leap on the opportunity to continue, “You say Mr. Kinney is the biological father of these children?”

“He’s the sperm donor,” she spits. “Father isn’t a term I’d use. And he gave up his parental rights. They’re my kids.”

“I see.” In fact, I don’t. She’s given me the details, and it’s giving me a headache. True, as an assistant to the US ambassador in Paris I see and hear a lot of strange things, but this is something new. “Miss Marcus,” I start again, “as I already told you, we’re not the police-“

“You’re the fucking embassy, right? You’re here to help fellow citizens.”

“Of course.”

“Then do your job. Fucking help me!” She takes a deep breath and runs an unsteady hand through her hair. “Is there a possibility to find out where he took them?”

“Not for us, no,” I reply. “We have no legal authority here. You have to contact the French police to-“

“I already tried that,” she interrupts me again. “They’re fucking useless. First they pretended not to understand a word I was saying. So I brought my aunt who speaks fluent French. Then they told me that if he maybe left the country they have no legal authority. If you ask me, it’s just a bunch of bullshit.”

I sigh, not sure how to deal with this agitated woman. Being a father myself, I can understand that she’s upset. “Do you have any proof that the children might be in danger?” I ask, trying to be reasonable. 

She frowns at me for a long moment without speaking, then exhales a long breath. “No,” she then says quietly, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “He won’t hurt them. But I’m their legal parent. Not Brian.”

“This Brian,” I ask, “does he have a last name?”

“Kinney. Brian Kinney.”

“And he’s a US citizen?”

“Yes,” she confirms, sighing quietly. 

“Then I’m afraid there is no way we can help you, Miss Marcus. I am terribly sorry.”

She snorts, her momentary quietness gone, the fight back in her eyes. “Yeah, sure. Thanks for fucking nothing.” Shooting me a last lethal glare, she turns and leaves the embassy, her boots clicking on the hard wood floor. I watch her leave and wonder if the children might be better off with their father, after all.


	10. Loose Ends

“He’s going to be very sorry for what he did.”

The voice is full of repressed fury, distorted into something almost unrecognizable. It is hard for me to believe that this is one of my closest friends I am talking to. The woman who helped me through some of the darkest hours of my life, the woman I – even if it was just for one completely insane second – considered marrying to help her with her problems. Thank God I realized that it would be the wrong thing to do. 

Of course it doesn’t help either that Emmett is sitting only a few feet away, and his usually friendly gaze is almost as angry as the voice on the phone.

“Give the damn thing to me,” Emmett hisses, holding out his hand. 

I wave his hand away and frown. “Mel, listen to me. You have to keep a clear mind to deal with the situation. You can’t handle it half cocked.”

“Half-cocked, huh?” she hisses, her anger turning on him in a flash. “How would you feel if someone came and kidnapped your kids?”

“Would you stop a moment and listen to yourself,” Emmett snaps, glaring at me where I sit speechless, staring at my empty hand where the telephone was only a moment before. “It wasn’t *someone* kidnapping your kids. It was their father, not some stranger.”

“Oh, that’s really rich, coming from you. Since when did you become a member of the Brian-Kinney-fanclub?” I’m not on the phone anymore, but Mel’s voice is so loud I have no problem hearing it.

I see Emmett taking a deep breath, trying for patience. “I’m not. And you should know that. But I’m also the guy who listened to Gus complain about his mother slapping him.”

My breath leaves my lungs in a whoosh. My God. The poor kid. My eyes meet Emmett’s and his soften almost instantly, obviously realizing how shocked I am. I never told anyone, but my mother used to slap me when I was still a little kid. It wasn’t bad, she wasn’t a violent person, but my father had left us and she had to work two jobs at the same time. At least that’s what I’ve always told myself to come to terms with the fact that once or twice I even had a black eye.

It stopped when she remarried and settled back into the life of a housewife, so maybe it really was the stress, but until today there are moments when I find myself wondering if it was something I did, or if something was wrong with me. 

“… if you stopped thinking about someone other than yourself for a change, maybe you’d realize that Brian really loves his kids. And with Justin back, he’s really a decent person these days.”

Emmett rolls his expressive eyes and for what has to be the umpteenth time, I feel the a familiar pang of regret that our relationship ended so badly. It was entirely my fault, of course. I went to the White Party in Miami, I had the sudden idea I was missing something if I weren’t fucking more than one guy, and I should have known that Emmett wouldn’t take kindly to it. No, we hadn’t talked about monogamy, but it was like an unspoken agreement between us. 

In the end I think he would’ve forgiven me the White Party, but what he couldn’t forgive was that I lied to him about it. That I made up a story about an important business meeting. That I told him he would only be bored if he came with me. 

When he finally found out what I had done, he just looked at me with a pair of big, hurt eyes, and I couldn’t take it. I was prepared for anger, screams, but he just looked at me and I lost it. Instead of saying I was sorry I told him he should keep the fuck out of my life. He stared at me as if I’d struck him, then stood, and without a word left the condo. Two days later Vic, Michael and Lindsay stood in front of my door with a pair of hunky guys and left an hour later with his clothes and the things he didn’t want to leave with me.

We didn’t talk for six months. 

And it almost killed me. 

Emmett had been my first friend after I came to Pittsburgh and he’s without a doubt the man who knows (almost) all my secrets. Okay, so Brian, the devious bastard, knows a lot too, but Emmett has always been my confidant, the open ear I need all too frequently. And all of a sudden, he was gone.

Oh, he was still around, I saw him almost daily, at the diner, at Babylon, at the gym. But he never looked at me, his eyes went right through me, and the few times, I tried to talk to him, he acted as if I weren’t there. 

Finally, after six months of silence, Debbie finally had enough. She shoved Emmett into a booth across from me in the diner and demanded we talk, and that she would never allow us to come back again if we couldn’t find a way to at least act civil around each other. 

So we did. We talked, and we both realized we missed each other. So, slowly and tentatively, we found our way back to friendship. I would have liked to take it further, but I wasn’t foolish enough to believe Emmett would agree. He can forgive a lot, but I knew I’d hurt him deeply, knew that anything beyond friendship was out of the question for him.

“… no, I’m not going to put Teddy back on the phone.” 

I blink and look at Emmett who’s still talking to Mel. His face is aggravated, as is his voice, and his forehead is marred into a frown. I reach out with my hand to take the phone from him, but he evades me by getting up and pacing the living room. 

“No. Because you’re trying to press Teddy into helping you, and I’m not going to let it happen. I’m not going to permit you to use the fact that he’s an emotional marsh mellow.”

Excuse me? A marsh mellow? 

“Why?” Emmett asks. “Oh, maybe because you already used him enough.”

“Emmett,” I hiss and go after him. “Give me the fucking phone.”

Again, he evades me by turning toward the window. “Yeah. Well, that’s too bad. Seems you’re on your own this time.”

Before I can do or say anything, he disconnects the call and hurls the receiver on the sofa. 

“Fucking bitch!” he snarls in a voice I’ve never heard from him before. Not waiting for my response, he once again picks up pacing. “Maybe it’s really true,” he says, and I’m not sure he’s talking to me, “that people who lose a spouse crack sometimes. What do you think?”

“Ah … what?” I have to blink to focus on him, surprised to find him standing, staring at me, instead of walking around.

He rolls his eyes and sighs loudly, “I was talking about Mel. Maybe Michael is right. Maybe she’s really lost it. She’s always been a bit like Brian, but she’s been downright rude on the phone. And you would think she’d wonder how Gus and the girl are. But no, instead she was only talking about herself. How she was suffering, how Brian was behaving like an asshole and so on.”

“Well …” I start, and he cuts me right off.

“Don’t,” he warns. “Don’t even try to defend her. For once, it’s not Brian’s fault.”

I sigh. Maybe he is right. “So, what else did she say?”

“She tried to contact the embassy, but they wouldn’t help her.”

“So, there’s no trace of the kids.” Which brings me right back to Brian. “But you have to agree that Brian should at least have contacted her.”

For a moment he frowns, then nods. “Okay, I give you that much. But he didn’t start the whole mess. When I was in his loft to take care of Gus, he told us that he thought Mel was a good mother and that Gus loved her. That he had no desire to take the kids from her.”

I have to agree with that, as much as I hate it. And to be frank, I don’t really hate Brian. In fact, the problem is that I always secretly admired him, envied him even. And I wanted nothing more than for him to accept me as an equal, which, of course, was a delusion from the start. I was so out of his league it’s ridiculous. And he knew it.

At least that’s what I thought. It took me another couple of years to understand that it wasn’t Brian who was treating me like a bug – although at times he did – but me, who thought I was nothing but a bug compared to that shining, beautiful butterfly. It took setting up my own successful business for me to understand that I was simply projecting the image I had of myself onto others. Of course they were treating me like a bug – because deep down I thought I was one. An ugly, slightly balding and small bug not worth looking at or lusting after. 

“Teddy?”

“Hmm?” I look up and see Emmett rolling his eyes at me – once again. If I were a lesser man I’d be a little self-conscious right now.

“Nothing,” he says after a moment. “Really, Teddy. I know you’re close to forty, but it’s not that old.”

My eyes narrow. I really hate people constantly reminding me of my upcoming birthday. And I’ll be damned if that’s not something I share with the illustrious Brian Kinney. I feel an inward frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shakes his head, his arms waving dramatically through the air. God, he’s such a queen. “Well, you sure are absentminded a lot lately. And we won’t even bring up you offering money so Mel could get the whole mess started.”

It is my turn to roll my eyes, “You won’t ever let me live that one down, will you?” Thank God I never told him about actually considering to marry Mel. I would never hear the end of it. 

“Of course not,” he replies with a twitch of his lips. “Anyway. This whole thing is really getting out of hand. And I’m so sick of living through woe and drama all the time, just because our estimated circle of friends can’t get their affairs in order.”

I have to grin. Emmett’s really the last person who should complain about woe and drama. But I let it go and smile, “Maybe you should’ve said that to Mel.”

“I tried,” he sighs dramatically. “I really tried. But would she listen?”

“Of course not.” I love this kind of banter with him, the way we know each other so well, our thoughts fly on the same cloud. “Because nobody takes a queen seriously.”

“Exactly,” he says in a dramatic voice. “My life is a hard one.”

“Dreadful.”

We look at each other, and it’s only seconds before we both erupt into freeing laughter.

*****

“Mrs. Kinney, I mean, Joan. What a surprise to see you.”

I can imagine. Whether the surprise is good or bad will have to show. “Hello, Jennifer. Is it possible for me to come in for a moment to speak to you?” I don’t tell her that I deliberately didn’t call in advance, afraid she’d turn me down. By now she has to be quite sick of me. 

“No. It’s quite alright. Do come in.”

She steps back from her door and invites me in with a wave of her hand. I force a smile. I haven’t felt like smiling for a long time. “I really don’t want to disturb you, but I was wondering if you heard from your … Justin?” I have to force myself to use the name. I think he is a polite, well educated young man, but he’s also the man who does unspeakable things with my son. Or my son with him. 

Jennifer leads me into her beautiful living room, and after refusing her offer for coffee we both sit down. The smile on her face seems as insincere as mine. “Yes, actually, Justin called me a few days ago. They’re in Italy, but he wasn’t very specific where his whereabouts are concerned.”

“Oh.” The word slips from my lips, before I can prevent it. It’s ridiculous, of course, because Jennifer Taylor knows that my relationship with Brian isn’t good. But for so long I’ve been struggling to keep up appearances, it’s hard to break the habit now. “Is he … I mean, are they alright?”

“Yes, I think they’re all fine. He told me they have the children with them.”

“Oh!” This time the word is one of pleasure. Whatever problems Brian and I have, and whatever I may think of his sexual habits, the children will certainly be happier with him than with that horrible woman I met a few weeks ago. And we must not forget that Brian is the children’s biological father. And she is a … well, not a normal woman, for sure.

“So,” Jennifer folds her hands in her lap. They are beautiful hands, well taken care of, adorned with two expensive looking rings. Not the hands of a housewife. Not like mine. Another of those forced smiles appears on her face, “How are you doing? Are you feeling any better?”

“I’m very well, thank you.” I feel the stiffness in my back, the way I have to struggle to keep the smile firmly in place. They all think I tried to take my own life. I would never do such a thing. It’s a mortal sin. But nobody wants to believe that I simply misjudged the combination of sleeping pills and one of two glasses of finest Irish whiskey. Not like Jack did. I’m nothing like Jack. “Father Tom has given me a lot of strength.”

Jennifer stiffens almost imperceptibly. “He seems to be very important to you.”

“He is.” He’s been my rock, the one who always listens, who never judges. He seems to understand my dilemma so well. “He is my spiritual guide, my anchor in so many ways.”

She nods and seems to think. “He is very young. Not a lot older than Brian.”

“No,” I agree. They have to be the same age. And they’re both good looking, well bred men. “They could be brothers.” It’s a thought I had before. Not for the first time I wish Brian would have someone like Tom in his life, someone honest and decent who could help him on his thorny path. Someone who could have been a guide, someone who might have been able to soften Brian’s rough edges.

Again, Jennifer nods. “Joan, may I speak openly?”

“Why, yes, of course,” I tell her while the truth is, I dread nothing more than her openness. She is nothing like that Debbie Novotny, but she has a sharp tongue nevertheless. And her son is very outspoken.

“Very well.” She leans back on her couch and studies me for a moment. “Do you sometimes wish Father Tom were your son instead of Brian?”

“Do I sometimes …” I stare at her, in shock, in surprise, I’m not sure. Do I wish Tom were my son? The thought certainly has crossed my mind. But I also once wondered if traveling the world could be fun. That doesn’t mean I’ll ever do it. 

“Yes.” Jennifer’s gaze holds mine, and I have the feeling as if her eyes look right through me. “Father Tom is … well a priest. While Brian is a mere mortal, a man who lives a normal life. And I wonder if he’ll ever be able to live up to Father Tom’s image.”

Stunned, I don’t find words. Is it possible that I created this ideal person, this ideal son? That I used Father Tom to satisfy my own need for the son Brian never was, never wanted to be? Maybe. But then, with Brian for a son, is it not also understandable?

“I don’t really know,” Jennifer continues, “what happened between you and Brian. But from what I could watch, he seems very hurt. Yet, he instantly covered all medical expenses you had for your stay in the hospital.

“He is my son. That’s what children should do for their parents.” The response comes without thinking. It’s automatic, something I’ve told myself time and again. But if I’m honest with myself, I have to admit it surprised me. After the way we parted, I wouldn’t have expected for Brian to feel responsible for me anymore.

“What I mean,” she goes on, “is that maybe it’s not really too late. If you both made an effort, and I’m sure Justin will help any way he can.”

“He seems like a nice young man.”

This time her smile is genuine, “I like to think so, yes. But don’t let yourself lull in by his blond-boy charm. He can be a devil if he wants to. And he’s fiercely protective of Brian.” Almost on an afterthought she adds, “Which really isn’t that much of a surprise.”

I look at her for a long moment. Then I ask something I’ve been dying to for weeks. “I understand that Justin was very young when he and Brian met.”

She nods, “Seventeen.”

“Weren’t you … I mean, how did you react when you heard that he was seeing someone so much older.”

“I’m not sure Brian was that much older. In some ways, yes, he was a man. But in others.” She shakes her head, “To answer your question. Yes, I was shocked. I even got him to see a psychologist, because I thought he was too young to understand who he really was. I made myself believe that it was Brian’s fault. That he had somehow, I don’t know, enticed my sweet innocent son.” She pauses and laughs slightly. “God, I was no naïve. Justin might have been a virgin, but he was far from innocent. And when I finally calmed down, I had to admit to myself that I knew he was gay for a long time.” Again she pauses, frowns a little, “At least I had a very strong suspicion.”

“Brian was always very good looking. And a lot of girls were calling him. I never … I mean, not even once, I…” Helpless, not sure what to say, I let my voice trail off. “Maybe if … maybe I could have prevented it.”

At that Jennifer laughs. “No, you couldn’t have. He didn’t choose to be gay, believe me. And nothing you could have done, would have made a difference.”

“But if I prayed harder, maybe if Brian were still young, we could have prayed together, asked God for guidance, maybe a priest …” I think of Father Tom. Maybe someone like him would have been able to prevent the worst from happening. 

“No.” Jennifer is very firm. “Some parents tried it that way, but the only thing that happened was that their children suffered.” 

And Brian has suffered enough. She doesn’t say it, but it’s an unspoken statement I can see in her eyes. I want to protest, but the words die on my tongue. She is right, after all. Brian has suffered. Jack always treated him badly, and I never did anything to prevent it. At least not very often.

“What about your husband?” I ask.

“He can’t accept it. It was very hard for Justin, because he adored his father. They were very close, and he looked up to Craig, he really was Justin’s hero.” She takes a noisy breath, “It’s something I can never forgive, the way he hurt my child.”

And she drew the line. Sometimes I wish I had had the courage. But I’m not like Jennifer Taylor. I wasn’t raised like her, had neither the money nor the background to simply leave my husband with my two children. 

“Joan,” she says, drawing me back to our conversation. “The past is the past. You can’t change it. There’s only the present and the future.”

“I’m not really sure that makes a difference. You are right, Brian was hurt a lot. I’m not sure he can forgive what I did to him.” The worst thing is, however, that sometimes I’m not even sure I want him to.

*****

“Carl, honey! What a wonderful surprise.”

Debbie Novotny, from the day I met her, has always been one of my favorite people. Maybe because she was nothing like my mother, blond, blue-eyed, very reserved, the perfect WASP wife for the perfect WASP husband. Only, my father was from a blue-collar background, his daddy a worker at the docks in Chicago, he’d risen from it, and after gaining a scholarship for Yale, where he’d ended up second of his year, he’d taken a position in a successful law-firm in New York. He was earning big bucks, and finally married the boss’ daughter after getting her pregnant on a hot night on the sandy beach. At least that’s how the story goes. Privately I have a hard time thinking of Stella in anything but a designer costume, housing a party for the rich and pretty. 

The mere idea of her sweaty and sandy on a beach down in Florida is like a foreign concept to me. I have a very clear memory of myself dirty and bleeding after playing football with my blue-collar cousins, and my mother almost fainted. She couldn’t bring herself to hug me, or even touch me. Instead of taking me in her arms, she ordered me to get in the car and didn’t look at me until Marisa, our house maid had cleaned me up and taken care of my wounds.

So, meeting Debbie was like finally seeing the mother I’d always longed for, and after Michael and I broke up I asked myself time and again if Debbie being part of the deal was one of the reasons Michael and I got together in the first place. I’m not quite conclusive on that point, but I’ve considered it ever since. 

“Hi, Debbie.” I smile at her, heaving myself on one of the stools at the diner. “How are you?”

Her welcoming smile slips a little and she sighs heavily. I wonder if Michael ever really appreciates how lucky he was. “I’m fine, but ever since Mel took the kids to Europe, things are really fucked up.” Stella would die if she knew I’m associating with people who use that kind of language. But I’d rather spent my days hanging around in the diner, seeing Debbie smile and rage, than spending a stifling hour in the company of my mother.

Another customer slips onto a stool at the other end of the counter and Debbie greets him with a smile, then pours him a cup of coffee before returning to me. “What can I get you, honey?”

“Coffee. And a lemon bar.”

She grins, and pats my hand, then takes care of my order and returns with a huge coffee with cream and sugar, and an extra large lemon bar. I feel a sting in my eyes and blink several times, before I manage a wobbly smile. Until today, on the few occasions we meet, Stella asks me how I take my coffee. 

“Thanks.” I take a bite of the bar and savor the taste. It’s not the best lemon bar, but for me it tastes of love, home and feeling welcome. And I take a deep breath. “How is Michael.”

She seems startled at first, no doubt she didn’t expect me to bring up the subject of her son, but she catches herself fast and, once again, pats my hand. “He’s fine, honey.” Her smile seems forced, “Now, tell me, how’s that new boyfriend of yours.”

God, I love this woman. I was her son’s lover, her son’s partner. I left him. And even though the reasons were complicated and certainly it wasn’t entirely my fault our relationship went downward, she’s still Michael’s mother and it wouldn’t be a surprise if she took his side, cutting me out completely in the process. Not Debbie, though. She loves Michael with fierce devotion, protects him like a lioness protects her cub, but her heart is big enough to include me. 

“He’s gone,” I reply, sipping form my coffee. 

Interest, maybe hope, flickers in her eyes. “Gone, as in … on a business trip?”

I have to stifle a grin. Despite her down to earth attitude, Debbie Novotny is a real romantic, and subtle she is not. “Gone as in gone. Something came up and he had to go back to England.”

 

She looks at me for a long moment. “What about you?”

Not sure what she’s talking about, I tilt my head. “I’m still here. Deb.” I reach out and touch her hand, “It’s not that big of a deal. It wasn’t as if we were in love or anything. We liked each other, had fun, but it’s never been serious. And we both knew it was just temporary. We parted as friends. Maybe we give each other a call now and then.”

“Oh.” She’s really surprised and I wonder what Michael told her. When he came to see me after he returned from New Orleans, he was not very rational. 

“Yeah.” I shrug and chew on another piece of lemon bar. 

“Hmm. Hmm, “ she says, once again not being very subtle about it. She turns away from me. After a moment she’s back, wiping the counter with a towel. “I think Michael’s finally come to terms with his feelings for Brian,” she tells me oh so casually.

“Oh.” I don’t want to be happy to hear it, but I am. I can feel it in the little flutter around my heart, the familiar feeling in my gut. “That’s … uh … good,” I mumble around another bite. 

“Yeah,” she agrees, not looking at me, staring at her towel instead. “I think he’s ready to move on now. He’s even made his peace with Justin.”

I swallow and clear my throat. “That’s good to hear,” I say honestly, the little flutter gone. But my heart is still beating too fast. I’ve tried to understand why I fell for Michael, especially why it happens so fast and became serious almost in an instant. Until today I don’t have an answer, and for a long time I didn’t care. 

It was strange, really. Michael was neither the type I usually went for. I had a thing for dark hair, but that’s where it ended. My sex partners used to be tall and slim, more like Brian, smart and aggressive. But something happened that night on the dance floor of Babylon, something I’m still trying to understand. 

“I’m glad, too,” Debbie says, finally raising her gaze to me. “You could give him a call some time?” 

I don’t miss the hope in her voice, and can’t ignore the one in my heart. “Yeah. Maybe some time.”

She smiles, bright and brilliant, making me wish I was her son instead of Stella’s, before with a glance at my empty plate, she announces, “Want another lemon bar? This one’s one me.”

*****

“Well, Justin, tell me. Are all boys in America as handsome as you and your young man?”

My young man? Oh, Brian would boast hearing her say that. I grin at Luciana who is holding Sara – something she seems to enjoy tremendously. We both stand in the kitchen, a deliciously smelling pasta sauce sizzling on the old farmhouse oven, while I munch on the most perfect Amarettini1 I’ve ever tasted. Luciana makes them herself and they’re crunchy but still soft in a very special way. 

“Hmmm,” I say, savoring the taste in my mouth. “Would you marry me if I asked you?” 

She cackles and blushes ever so slightly, then waggles her forefinger at me. “It’s good you’re so fond of men. No pretty girl would be safe from you.”

I giggle and take another cookie. “Or maybe we could just kidnap you. You could come with us, live with us, take care of the kids, and make all your wonderful food.” Although, Brian would probably kill me. Or her. He’s already complained that he gained two pounds during the week we’ve been staying here. So this morning, he got up at seven, snatched Gus and took him out into the fields. Gus was totally excited of course and I ignored the look Brian shot me when he saw me in the kitchen, already savoring Luciana’s first class Cassata2. 

Luciana chuckles and pats Sara’s back gently. “Your Brian really has two beautiful children. I understood that their Mama is dead.”

My smile fades, and I’m experiencing the familiar pang when I’m reminded of the fact that Lindsay’s gone from our lives forever. Long before Debbie, Lindsay was my supporter, she was a confidante when everybody else was laughing behind my back – some right into my face – when I told them I loved Brian Kinney. But she understood, because even though she was a lesbian, she loved Brian too. 

She knew him and loved him, and unlike Michael, she didn’t turn him into some hero, some image she created for herself, but saw him as a living human being, a man with faults, but also someone who had a big heart. When I once asked her why she wanted him to be Gus’ father, she smiled at me and said “because he’s the very best.”

“Yes,” I tell Luciana after clearing my misty eyes. “She died. She suffered from placenta abruption while Sara was born.”

Her eyes grow wide, then very sad. “Oh, this is dreadful. So very terrible.” Her heavy accent gives her statement an almost eerie quality, and Sara starts to whimper. “Now, now,” she croons in Italian, which makes her voice soft and warm and the baby calms instantly. “Everything’s alright, little one.” She shakes her head, jumping back to English, “It’s horrible to think she’ll never know her Mama.”

I nod, having thought the same myself. As much as it hurts to lose someone you love, I would hate not having been able to know Linds at all. “Brian and I will do everything we can, so she’ll know what a great woman her mother was.”

Luciana smiles at me appreciatively. “That is very good.” She pauses, then clears her throat. “I really … don’t want to … how do you say it in English. Pry? Is that the right word.” At my nod she continues, “I know it is not my place, but I heard Marco talk to your Brian. He said there was another mother?”

“Yeah. Lindsay was a lesbian. She was married to a female lawyer.”

Luciana nods. “So, where is this lady lawyer?”

“Right now in France.” 

“Ah.” I see understanding in her eyes. “Paris.”

I smile slightly, “Yeah.”

“Little Gus seems to love his Papa very much.”

“They’re close,” I agree. I love seeing them together, love seeing Brian interact with his son. Even years ago, when Brian still insisted that he was just a drop in dad, I loved seeing him holding the baby. He looked incredibly sexy, but there was also that awe in his eyes, that total disbelief that he could be responsible for creating something as perfect as this child.

“It is good. Marco and his father, they were not always close. But they are better now. His Papa suffered a lot when Marco’s mother took the boy with her to England.”

“She’s English?” I’m surprised, Marco looks like the picture book Italian boy. Okay, young man. Dark, smoldering eyes, someone I could easily fall for – under different circumstances.

Luciana clucks her tongue disapprovingly. “She married an English aristocrat. She was very beautiful, Marco’s Mama. Came from a poor family in Pisa. It’s not very far from here.” Again she clucks her tongue, “She was already pregnant when she married Marco’s Papa. Never fit in. She always thought she was far too good for the country. Always looked down her nose on me, that one.”

I hide a grin. “Marco later came back, I assume.”

“Yes, yes. He didn’t like that aristocratic husband of his mother’s. They first sent him to some fancy college. But he was unhappy, run away two or three times. So finally, she agreed to sent him back to Italia. He was ten then.”

“Who was ten?” 

“Marco,” I say absentmindedly, before turning towards the voice. And my eyes widen. I’m sure my pupils have to be like saucers, and I feel a little breathless and weak in my knees as I take in the sight in front of me. It’s Brian, dressed in nothing but a faded pair of jeans. He obviously removed his shirt due to the heat, because it’s hanging around his neck, while his chest is solely covered in a fine layer of sweat. As is his face. My eyes follow a single droplet on its way from his right temple, down his cheek, his jaw, his neck. I swallow hard.

And see his lids lower over suddenly very dark eyes. He doesn’t say it, but I know what he’s thinking right now. Because I’m thinking the same. If we were anywhere else, the loft, a hotel room, we’d be fucking our brains out. 

My pants feel uncomfortably tight, so I shift slightly and see Brian’s lips twitch. 

“Oh, Signore Brian.” Luciana beams at him. “And where is little Gus?”

“Marco took him to the vineyard.” His eyes wander to me, “Seems he already has men swooning at his feet. Marco’s totally in love with him.”

Luciana harrumphs. “That one. Always after a nice pair of legs or…” She trails off and indicates her own substantial breasts. 

Brian chuckles and reaches for an empty glass to fill it with the freshly made ice tea in the fridge. It’s very informal around here and everyone takes what they need. It’s almost like home. 

“So,” I look at him, “what did you do? Run up and down the hills of Tuscany?”

He empties his glass, then wipes his mouth with his shirt. “Gus and I helped planting cucumbers.”

I do a double take. “You planted … plants.”

He grins, looking even more devastatingly sexy when he does so. “You seems surprised.”

“Uh …” Speechless I stare at him. Okay, yes, Brian has changed. A lot. But I still have a hard time imagining him with his hands in the earth. In the dirt. The dirty earth.

“I used to love helping my mother in the garden,” he then says, stunning me even more. His voice is wistful, “Then my dad said working in the garden was for girls, and I stopped.”

My heart bleeds for the little boy Brian once was, and for a moment I wish I’d known him then, that I’d been able to protect him from getting hurt so terribly. But I shake it off quickly. It’s over and done and nothing I wish will change the past. We can only move forward. “Maybe we could have some plants at the loft.”

“Maybe,” he replies, shrugging slightly before refilling his glass. 

“I’m going to put the little one to sleep,” Luciana announces suddenly, giving us a smile, before I receive a stern look. “And you … no sampling the sauce before lunch.”

Brian grins when she’s out of the door. “She sure has your number, sunshine.”

I grin right back, “What can I say, I love food.”

“Don’t I know it? Any news from the evil lawyer?”

I shake my head. “Nothing,” I tell him. It’s been more than a week and Mel hasn’t tried contacting us once. I would’ve expected her to drive us crazy with her calls – but nothing happened. 

Brian frowns into his ice tea, then shrugs. “Well, I’m not going to look a gift horse in its mouth. Maybe we got lucky and she drowned in the Seine.”

A raw laugh bursts from my lips. “Brian!” I really try to sound shocked. I don’t really want Mel to drown in the Seine – or anywhere. But it’s so typical for Brian to say something like that. 

He grins, but then sighs. “Or maybe she finally realized she needs help.”

We both share a look, none of us really believing that. 

“So,” I say finally. “Gus went to the vineyards. When will he be back?”

Brian slowly puts down his glass, then turns his gaze to me, and I suck in a sharp breath. Again, his lids are half-way lowered, his eyes dark and bottomless. “Not for a few hours.” He slowly pulls his shirt from his neck, then rubs it over his chest and belly in deliberately provocative movements and I experience something like a déjà vu. I’m suddenly seventeen years old, trembling with a mixture of fear, nervousness and excitement, standing in a well known loft, the most beautiful naked man in front of me, pouring water over himself. If I ever experienced any doubts that night, they were gone the moment I saw the rivulets run over the smooth expanse of his skin.

“I see,” I manage, snapping myself back to the present.

He rises his arm, sniffs his pit, and I feel my nostrils flare. “I stink,” he announces. “I really need a shower.” And then he walks out of the kitchen, and I stand there, breathing hard. 

I need only a moment to follow him up the stairs. After all, my mother taught me that cleanliness is a virtue. And who am I to contradict my own mother?

* * *

1 Amaretti are small cookies, usually taken with a cup of strong coffee.  
2 Cassata is a typical Italian cake, very rich, mostly eaten during winter time.


	11. Loose Ends

The view from our bedroom is perfect. At least close to it. Gentle green hills, on top of them single farm houses, sometimes intercepted by brown fields, and vineyards, and in the distance the silhuette of Sienna, or Siena as the locals call it. A very prominent tower is visible in the morning mist, surrounded by those typical Tuscan houses. 

Yesterday Marco told me that Siena is a really old city. Very famous for its history and the horse-races held there twice a year. They are called “Palio”, and in this Palio the quarters of the city, the locals call them “contrades”, compete against each other. Everything is very traditional and very emotional because of old rivalries, where even family members won’t talk to each other during the time of the race. 

You belong to the contrade you are born in, or spent your first night in, and that means that during the race sometimes the rivalries divide families and friends. These days everything is forgotten after the race is over, but in earlier times it was taken very seriously, up to the point where a man and a woman belonging to rival contrades were not permitted to marry. 

“Brian?”

I have to smile, hearing Justin’s voice from the bed, all warm and sleepy, and think about the way his eyes lit up at Marco’s tale about Siena. He desperately wants to go there, telling me non-stop what kind of art he can admire there. He must have read every book available in the house, or rather looked at the pictures as Italian seems to be a language he didn’t quite pick up during his stay in Europe with the wonderful Ian.

“Brian? Why are you up?”

I turn away from the window and back to him, “I’m up alright.”

He grins at me sleepily, and pulls back the cover invitingly. “I can see that.”

I slip under the sheet, feeling his familiar warmth, the familiar texture of his body. There were times when I would’ve shied away from this, a part of me screaming in horror at the closeness. Now, it seems, I can’t get enough of it. 

I groan when his hand reaches for my cock, then take a deep breath when I feel his lips close around the head. I can’t count the men who sucked me off, but none of them could compare to him. Right from the start, when he was still inexperienced, more fumbling than anything, I was almost going off at a single touch of those luscious lips. Than, I thought it was ridiculous, only today I begin to understand why I felt that way. 

My back arches and I feel my balls tighten, then spurt into his mouth and he swallows eagerly, licking his lips when he finally looks up at me with shining eyes. “It’s the best protein shake one can get.”

We share a laugh, then I meet his gaze. “Let me take care of you.”

“Not necessary.”

I frown. “Justin-“

He grins, “I already came. But don’t let it get to you head,” he warns jokingly. 

“You mean the incredible prowess of my body fluids?” Is it childish of me to feel a bit giddy at the idea of him coming just from giving me head? If it is, I really don’t care.

He laughs, then wiggles away from the wet spot, before he snuggles close to me. “I hate to say this, but I’m starting to get worried.”

A sigh escapes my lips, coming from a place deep inside of me, a place I use to pack up bad stuff, keep it in store and hope it’ll never come back out again. No such luck, it seems. “Thanks for killing the mood, by the way. What do you want me to say? It’s Mel’s turn to contact us.”

He kisses my chest, before he looks at me. “I guess.” 

Getting annoyed, I raise my upper body, dislodging him from me in the process. “What the fuck does that mean?”

He gives a little shrug. “I’m really not sure. But I have a problem believing that Mel wouldn’t move heaven and hell to get to the kids. You practically kidnapped them from Paris, and she hasn’t even tried contacting us, as far as we know. Doesn’t that strike you as odd?”

I really, really hate when he’s right. Unfortunately, he often is. I sigh, “It’s unusual, I give you that.”

“Highly unusual,” he points out, emphasizing the first word. 

“Fine. Highly unusual. But what do we know? Maybe she’s finally lost it. Whatever.” Damn, I don’t want to think about this. We’re here, in this beautiful piece of earth, and Melanie Marcus can just go and fuck herself, stupid bitch. Gus is happy, so why the fuck should I care?

“Whatever, Brian?” Shit. Now he’s got that certain look in his eyes. The one that says he’s not going to let me get away with this. 

Getting angry, I fling back the sheet and leave the bed, wrapping myself in my robe, pulling the belt tighter than usual. “Yeah, whatever. It’s morning, the sun is shining, Mel is in Paris and can get lost there for all I care. So drop it, Justin.”

“Why?” Something flickers through those blue eyes. “Are you going to spank me if I don’t?”

“Justin.” The warning in my voice is very clear. I’m in no joking mood. Not anymore. Not ever, where the kids are concerned. 

“Brian,” he mocks, then looks at me seriously. “You can’t just ignore her. If nothing else, she’s still their legal parent. Their only legal parent.”

“Geez. Thanks so much for pointing that out to me. It’s just what I need.” I run a hand through my hair. “Christ, I want a glass of something really strong.” 

He climbs out of the bed, walks over to me, not caring with clothing and wraps his arms around me from behind. “Relax. I’m not your enemy. I just don’t want things to go from bad to worse. Gus loves you. How do you think he’d feel if his Daddy went to prison for kidnapping?”

Christ. “That’s a low blow, Taylor.”

He chuckles against my back. “I know. I’m an artist, I’ve developed black-mail into an art.”

“Ha fucking ha.”

His arms tighten around me. “I know you, Brian. You want what’s best for Gus and Sara. Gus is happy here, but I’m sure he misses Mel. Maybe not right now, because she was in a bad state, but she’s his mother.” He pauses, then amends, “One of his mothers. If nothing else, she’s someone who cared for him and loved him as long as he can remember. He just lost Lindsay. I know you don’t want him to lose Mel, too.”

He knows me entirely too well. “No, I don’t want that. As much as it pains me, Gus loves Mel.” That’s the whole problem. Children love their parents, no matter what, want their love and approval above everything. A lot needs to happen that children give up on their parents. I should know, I’m the expert here.

Justin squeezes me for a moment. “You’re a good man, Charlie Brown.”

I snort, but instead of mocking him, I simply turn and wrap him in my arms. I don’t think about it, I just do it because it feels right. “Can you maybe remind me of that when Mel arrives here, flaming sword in hand, throwing the gauntlet?”

“No worries,” he whispers. “You don’t have to fight her, I’ll be your champion. I’ll fight the dragon for you.”

I have to chuckle, “Dragon. How appropriate.”

“Even my mom thinks Mel’s lost it, and she was one of her strongest supporters.”

“How is your mom?” I know I’m changing the subject, but I just don’t want to talk about Mel anymore. She’ll be on our toes soon enough, of that I am certain. 

“Fine. She had a fight with Dad. Molly was supposed to spend the weekend with him and she refused.”

Good for her. I really start to like the girl. Not that I’d ever admit it in public. “I bet Daddy dearest wasn’t happy.”

“According to Mom, he had a fit. Or using her words, he almost popped a vessel. She said Molly loved it.” He sighs, snuggling closer. “She probably thought it was her own private soap opera.” Again he sighs, heavily, with all the long suffering of an older brother, which makes me smile. 

“She’s your sister alright.”

It needs a moment for the words to sink in, but when they do, his head shoots up. “What the fuck?”

I laugh, rubbing my palms over his naked back. “You have to admit, she’s a lot like someone we both knew.”

“I guess,” he replies a little grumpily. After a moment, he chuckles, “I just wish I could’ve been there.”

That sobers me like nothing could. “Do you miss your Mom and Molly?”

“Sure.”

Guilt rises its ugly head, my old enemy. “Justin, if you want-“

“No,” he interrupts me, his eyes intent. “Sure, I miss them. But I want to be here with you. We’re partners. I’m not going to back out.” His gaze holds mine, “So get that thought out of your head. I’m here for the duration.”

I want to tell him that I believe him, but my throat is too tight for words, and my heart beats as if it wants to jump out of my chest. So instead of talking to him – I’ve never been good with words anyway – I lower my head, capturing his lips with mine. They are sweet and full of promises and welcome my touch, opening under my probing tongue. 

“Yuck! This is so gross!”

Justin and I jump at the voice coming from the doorway, chuckling as we part a little reluctantly. Shielding Justin’s naked body from curious eyes, I look over my shoulder. “Gus. What did I tell you about knocking before entering?”

Gus finds a sudden interest in his shoelaces – only recently he learned how to bind them properly. “Sorry.” 

“It’s okay. Just remember it in the future. What is it, Gus?”

“Can I go with Marco?”

“Where does he take you?”

“Picking olives. Can I go?”

I have to smile at his eager expression. “Okay.”

“Yay,” he shouts and is gone in a flash. We both hear him shout excitedly, and grin at each other.

“He’s your son, alright.”

Glaring at him in mock outrage, I steer him back to the bed. “You’re going to pay for this, you know that, right?”

“Am I now?” He doesn’t seem concerned. Quite the contrary. “Are you going to spank me now?”

“Maybe. Seems to me you need a little discipline.”

“Oh, yeah.”

We fall on the bed, me on top of him. Our gazes lock and all thought of spanking fly right out of my head. His lips are just too kissable. As they fuse with mine, I know we haven’t solved anything yet, but with the champion at my side, I might just make it.

*****

“Mmmmm, that’s delicious.” And it is. The rich taste, the creamy consistence, the perfect chocolaty smell. “This is the best Mousse I’ve come across.” But even more delicious, I have to admit, is the company. 

The most beautiful smile lightens up Emmett’s entire face, his eyes sparkling with delight. “Oh, thank you! Thank you so much! I’m so happy you like it.”

“Not that there was ever any doubt,” Vic grumbles from behind the counter, but he’s smiling slightly and seems genuinely delighted by the compliment. Which isn’t really one, because I’m merely stating the facts. 

“No, of course not,” Emmett hurries to say, grinning at me and winking at the same time. 

That wanders right to my gut. God, he’s gorgeous, happy and almost bubbling with excitement, and I can hardly believe I’m here with him, sharing this moment, just a week after we’ve met. Mick is sitting at my feet, tongue lolling as always, round, excited eyes on my face. He really is the sweetest dog. Or maybe I’m just in a really sappy mood. 

I have to chuckle and shake my head. I’m almost forty years old, but I’ve hardly ever felt like this. Maybe never. I certainly never felt this way with Walter. I loved him, I truly loved him, but I was never this young, this careless when I was with him. Probably because his life was never careless.

Emmett is a real miracle. He’s over thirty himself but in his heart, in his soul he’s managed to keep the genuine wonder you only see in children. Oh, he’s a grown up, through and through, can be serious and has the wonderful gift of being able to listen for hours. But his spirit soars, and I feel drawn to it like a moth to the flame. 

“We could let Mick be the tester,” Emmett suggests and I’m drawn from my thoughts. 

Vic gives him an only half-mock glare. “Don’t you dare, Emmett Honeycutt, don’t even think it.”

“Oh, come on, Vic. I’m sure he’ll love it. Just look at his eyes.” Again I’m treated with a wink and a grin and my heart flip-flops. Jesus. It’s been a week. A week. Yet, I feel as if I’ve known him forever. “What do you say, Peter?”

His eyes meet mine and I feel heat rising in my cheeks. “Uh … well, I suppose Mick wouldn’t mind, but I sure would.”

“There. The voice of reason,” Vic states happily. “And on that note, I really have to leave. I promised Rodney we’ll go see that new Spielberg movie he’s been reading about.” He snatches his keys and a jacket and with a wave is gone.

Emmett surveys the food on the counter. “Well, seems everything’s perfect. Now I just have to hope those new waiters know their jobs.” He turns to me, “Oh, well, if not, I just have to kill them. Now, what do you want to do?”

“Do?” Did I miss something? I came here on a whim, just to say ‘hi’. 

His face falls and his eyes lose the sparkle, “Oh. I’m sorry. I thought …” He forces a smile on his face but it’s nothing compared to the one before, “Of course you have something planned already. How stupid of me to-“

“Whoa,” I interrupt him quickly, getting up from the comfy couch. “That’s not what I meant. I’d love to spend some time with you.”

“Really?” Delighted once again, Emmett almost jumps up and down. “There’s this really fabulous new shop, and they have the most gorgeous shirts and ties. It’s going to be Teddy’s birthday soon and it’s the perfect opportunity to improve his appearance.”

“Well,” I nod towards the door. “Let’s go.” Not that I give a flying fuck about a present for Teddy – I know all about their doomed love affair through Brian – but seeing Emmett’s eyes light up with pleasure is sure worth it. 

“Wonderful.” He reaches for his keys and we’re off. 

We take my car because Emmett says he hates driving, Mick sitting in the back, yapping and barking occasionally. The shop is just around the corner of Liberty Avenue, and we find a parking space not too far away. 

We enter and Emmett leans toward me, “I used to work in retail a few years back. It was nothing like this, of course.”

“Can I help you?”

We both look up at a guy who seems to be barely out of his diapers. He’s almost obscenely young, obscenely well dressed and incredibly good looking, if you have a thing for male fashion-dolls. His dark hair with blond spikes is fashionably tousled, and I wonder if he needs one of two tubes of hair-gel a day. He flashes two rows of perfect white teeth at us. 

Emmett, of course, flashes right back. “No, thank you. We just want to have a look.”

Baby-doll beams. “Okay. Give me a call if you need anything.”

“Sure,” I grit out, glad to see him gone, realizing at the same moment that I’m showing all signs of jealousy. Ken-light has a perfect butt, but after a while you want more than two narrow ass cheeks, at least I do. I can only hope Emmett sees it the same way. Not that I have a fat ass, but I’m not twenty anymore, either. 

I take a deep breath and look at Emmett. We left Mick in the car, not sure he would be welcome here. I’m glad, because I would’ve really hated to see baby-doll and Emmett bonding over the dog. “Seen anything you like yet?” I ask.

“Maybe,” comes the answer, while his eyes are on a shirt-rack in the far left corner. “Those look promising,” he announces after a moment and off he goes. 

“You want a cup of coffee?” Ken-doll’s back, smile in place as are the spikes. “I’m Beau by the way.” 

Beau? What kind of mother gives her son such a ridiculous name? It’s fitting in a way, but I try to imagine introducing myself at the age of sixty with a name like Beau and can barely suppress an infantile giggle. “Ah … I’m Peter.” 

A bright, white beam. “I’ve never seen you before on Lilberty Avenue. Moved here recently?”

I feel a frown on my forehead, not sure where this is going. Or rather, stunned with  
disbelief, because this perfect wet dream is hitting on *ME*. *ME*! I have to lick my lips, my mouth suddenly very dry. But before I can reply, I see Emmett wave from the corner. “Sorry,” I say, keeping my eyes on Emmett. “I’m needed, it seems.” I’m not sure I imagine it, but I think I heard Ken-doll mutter something like ‘pity’. 

I join Emmett and soon we are discussing colors and styles, but now and then I notice Beau looking in my direction and his interest is obvious now. He’s checking me out openly, shamelessly even. Instead of being flattered I feel uncomfortable. 

“Look at this.”

I turn back to Emmett who’s holding up a hideous orange shirt. “Are you sure this is meant to be a present?”

He gives me the evil eye, but puts the shirt back on the rack. “Teddy expects me to give him something a little … adventurous from time to time. Brings a little color in his life.”

I have to grin. It’s just so Emmett to say something like that. “How about the blue one?” I suggest, pointing at a shirt in the back. 

He takes a look, considering my idea. “Not bad. A little pale, though. Strong colors suit Teddy, you know. He can be a bit boring sometimes. Not that he’s boring as a rule, but his clothes really need improvement.”

I gaze at him, his orange leather pants, the dark pink sweater, the blue and white shawl. “Not everyone can be as colorful as you.” In truth, most people would look ridiculous, but not Emmett. On him it seems perfect. 

“Probably not,” he admits, not just a little sadly. “Oh, well. What about the green over there?”

“Find anything?”

Beau is back, staring at me in open appreciation. Emmett seems oblivious and beams, “That green shirt, do you have it in large, too?”

Not taking his eyes off of me, Ken-doll says, “I’ll have to go look.” His eyes linger on my crotch, then wander back up, meeting my gaze. I stare right back. “You wanna have a drink later?”

“Excuse me?” Emmett’s gone from friendly customer to mighty pissed off in the blink of an eye. 

“I’m done here at eight. Ever been to Woody’s?” Beau is completely unperturbed by Emmett’s reaction. 

“Hello?” Emmett waves a hand in front of the guy’s face. “See me? He’s with me. So he’s most certainly not going to have a drink with you.”

Emmett’s jealous. Jealous. I want to grin like a madman. Not that I think he’s in love with me or anything, yet I’m thrilled by his possessive streak. But that doesn’t mean I’m all that thrilled about bloodshed right in this store. “Sorry,” I tell Beau. “But I already have a date.”

“Oh?” Clear disappointment from Beau.

“A date?” Surprise in Emmett’s voice. Pleasant surprise I might say.

Before I can react to that, Beau recovers, “Hey, it doesn’t have to be a date or anything. I’d go with a drink and a nice fuck instead.”

“Honey, not wanting to be rude or anything,” Emmett says, his voice in stark contrast to his words. He pauses, then continues, “Actually, I don’t fucking care about being rude. Obviously you don’t get it any other way.” He rises to his full height and looks down on Beau. “I’m making it simple so even someone like you can understand it. Fuck. Off.” He’s about to turn to me, but suddenly seems to remember something, “Oh, and your stuff. I was told it was great, but I have to tell you, it’s nothing but trash. Peter, I’m done here. I’d rather go naked than wear something so tasteless.”

With a dramatic turn, he sweeps from the store, leaving Beau gaping after him, and me grinning like a fool while I follow him to the car.

*****

“This system is just so fucked.”

In flinch at the rude language, even though I should’ve gotten used to it by now. “I would appreciate if you wouldn’t use that kind of words in my house.” 

“You know what?” Melanie stares at me with eyes as cold as ice one moment, then burning hot the next. “I don’t fucking care if you’re turning up your nose at the way I’m talking. You behave like some European aristocrat, but your daddy wasn’t any better than mine. He had a little grocery store in Manhattan, so there’s no need to look down at me.”

Look down at her? “Really, Melanie. It’s no need to get rude. I’m not a snob. But using words like … well, you know what kind of words I’m talking about, it’s not necessary, I assure you. I understand you perfectly fine.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes I have the feeling we’re living on different planets.”

So do I, but for entirely different reasons. Melanie used to be such a sweet child, beautiful even. Who could know she would turn out that way. I talked to our Rabbi and he was shocked to hear she was practicing acts of sodomy. “Just different continents,” I reply, keeping my voice calm and controlled. 

“Don’t I wish.” She sighs and runs a hand through her short hair. As always she’s wearing a pair of faded yeans, a tee-shirt and some kind of west. Not very female at all, but I’ve been reading up on women like her and it seems they tend to appear as masculine as possible. It’s a shame. She could be so attractive, so lovely. 

“Look, Helene,” she says after a moment. “This is already hard enough without you playing guardian all the time. I’m almost forty years old, I really don’t need a surrogate mother to tell me how to live my life, thank you very much.”

I narrow my eyes at her and shake my head, “I have no intention to be a mother or a guardian in any way. I choose to live alone and without children for a reason and I’m not going to change that.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She waves an impatient hand at me. There are no rings, no jewelry, just a watch like men wear them. It makes me so sad. It’s her mother’s fault entirely. If she’d at least made an effort to raise this kid properly, but no. Rachel thought it more important to buy the latest fashion than taking care of her family. Granted, she had a beautiful home, and she was the kind of representative wife David wanted, but Melanie grew up like a street kid. 

“I’ve been wanting to ask. What are you planning to do now?” Not that I want to get rid of her. Actually, I want to get rid of her, because, frankly, she’s severely disturbing the peace of my mind, but as a relative I have a responsibility I can’t just neglect. I wasn’t raised that way. 

“What do you mean?” She looks at me with a frown. 

I move to the kitchen aisle and pour myself a cup of coffee, then sit down at the table, keeping my back straight, my shoulders up, my head high. Appearances, my mother used to say, everything is about appearances. “I mean, with the children gone, don’t you think it’s time to move on with your life?”

She stares at me as if I’ve talked to her in a foreign language, as if she has problems understanding what I’m saying. “Are you out of your fucking mind?” she finally hisses. 

I reel back as if she’s slapped me. “Don’t use that word!” Unbelievable. She’s unbelievable. And so incredibly stubborn. Can’t she see the error of her ways? Doesn’t she realize the possibilities, now that she’s gotten rid of those children who are in no way related to her? 

She takes a step towards me, and I can’t help feeling a little threatened by her demeanor. “I’m going to use that *fucking* word as much as I want to,” she grits out between clenched teeth, then throws up her arms. “You must be completely mad. What do you mean, now that I’m rid of the children? Maybe it’s slipped your mind, but I love those children. They are *my* children. Mine and Lindsay’s.”

“Even you must see that this is totally ridiculous. Two women can’t have children together. Not by nature.” She is really far more gone, than I’d have thought.

“So?” Her eyes blaze, her face looks menacing. “What about adopted children?”

“That is not the same.” I say the words slow and steady. Maybe she’ll understand that way. “Even you must see, it is not the same. They are placed in normal, healthy families. With a mother *and* a father, the way nature intended it.”

“God!” She lets out a harsh laugh. “You are such a bigot. Just like Brian’s mother. Thinking about it, you two could be great friends. Maybe, one day, I could introduce you. On the other hand, she’s Catholic. Maybe it’s not such a good idea after all.”

“He is very attractive. Brian, I mean.” And he is. Of course he’s not Jewish, but still. “Why couldn’t you find a nice young man like him?”

Again that laugh, tinged with hystery this time. “Are you shitting me? Brian and I? We’d kill each other after five minutes together. It’s a miracle we didn’t already do it. Apart from the fact that he couldn’t get it up for me in the first place.”

“Melanie!” Now she’s really gone too far. “I’m warning you-“

“Warn me all you want, you dried up old prune.” Shocked I rear away, and she takes another step towards me. “I’m a lesbian, a pussy licker, and he’s gay, an ass fucker. Don’t you get it? Even if we’d like each other, we would never be compatible. Accept it and move on.”

Slowly, my gaze never leaving hers, I get up. “I want you to leave my house. Tonight!” I’m not going to accept this kind of behavior. It’s gone one for far too long already. 

“Gladly. I really don’t need some bigot old wallflower to shower me with her wisdom. I’ll be gone within the hour.”

Bigot old – I sit back down, struggle for breath as I stare at her retreating back. The sooner she’ll be gone, the better. I press a palm over my racing heart. I was never more insulted in my entire life. And I’m really glad I never gave her the card that Mr. Kinney left for her. The children are far better off without her.


	12. Loose Ends

“What can I get you boys?”

The voice slices through my skull like a knife, and I suppress a groan the very last moment. 

“Juice and blueberry pancakes for me,” Emmett announces, sounding disgustingly cheerful. I want to slug him. 

“Egg whites, whole wheat toast, grilled tomato,” Ted replies, giving me an understanding look. I’m probably turning green as they speak.

“What about you?”

I look up at my mother, red wig, colorful west, and sigh. “Coffee. A lot. Black.” 

“Geez. What happened to you?” There’s no compassion in her voice, just sarcasm. Thanks so much, Mom. 

Keeping my eyes on Ted, I sigh again. “I’m not quite sure. My memory is a little sketchy. I remember going to Woody’s, meeting Em and,” I have to think about it. “Peter. It was Peter. Brian’s ex-shrink.” I feel a frown, “What were you doing with Brian’s ex-shrink?”

“Emphasis on ex,” Em replies. “Ex.”

“So you went to Woody’s …” Mom trails off, waiting for me to continue.

“There it gets sketchy. I remember being at Babylon, which really isn’t the same it once was, believe me.”

“Well,” Em looks at me with a slight grin, “when you’re 35 things do change. It’s a fact.”

“Thanks,” I bite out, glaring at him as well as I can with eyes still half closed. “Anyway. Carl was there and-“

“About Carl,” my mother interrupts. “He was here a few days ago.”

More good news, I’m sure. Now she’s going to start telling me about that new gorgeous man at his side. Fuck. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“He’s single again,” she informs me matter-of-factly.

It takes a moment to sink in, but I’m suddenly wide-awake. “Huh?” Not that I sound awake, but I am. Believe me, I am. 

“It wasn’t anything serious in the first place. The guy went back to England. Case closed.”

“How can you say that?” I’m angry. 

“Because that’s how it is,” she says and walks away, not waiting for my response. 

I look at Ted, at Em, and frown. “Carl had a relationship with this guy. Am I the only one who sees it that way?”

Emmett rolls his eyes. “Grow up, Michael. The two of them were fuck buddies. So, yeah, they did it repeatedly, for a few weeks. It’s no big deal.”

“No big deal?” I glare at him. “Sorry, but I can’t see it that way. When I came back from New Orleans, I went to see him and he more or less threw me out. That doesn’t sound like fuck buddies to me.” I send Emmett another glare. “Thanks so much for your compassion, by the way.”

He snorts. “Don’t be such a drama-queen. It’s not like he went off and married someone else. If Brian was here, he’d tell you the same. And I can’t believe I’m quoting Brian.”

“And changing the subject for the moment, I seem to remember Michael mentioning something about Peter Gray.” I could kiss Ted for coming to my rescue, although I’m not sure he really wants to rescue me. He and Em haven’t been together for a long time, but I’m not so sure Ted’s ever gotten over their break-up. 

Still, it’s very welcome that we can talk about something else. “Yeah, come on, Em. Fess up.”

Emmett leans back, a smug grin on his face. “We’ve bonded over Mick.” He sighs, and the grin widens, “And of course he can’t resist the lure of my perfect body.”

Ted snorts loudly. “Sure.”

A haughty look crosses Emmett’s face. “I’ll have you know that Beau from the shirt-rack around the corner hit on him and he wasn’t even slightly interested.”

“B-beau from the shirt-rack?” Teddy is obviously impressed. One of his weaknesses have always been young, blond boys – I even secretly wondered if he ever had a thing for Justin – and Beau is definitely fitting the category. Except for the hair – he’s only a dyed blond.

“The very same.” Emmett is unable to hide his glee. I can just imagine how he feels being chosen over Beau. Not that I’d touch Beau. He’s far too young and so not my type, but generally speaking as a gay man, I’ve noticed his perfect body and his youthful beauty. I’d have to be blind not to. 

“So, you’re fucking Brian’s ex-shrink?” Ted, still impressed, is equally unable to hide the hint of jealousy in his voice. Poor Teddy. I really wish he’d find someone to love him the way he should be loved. 

Em’s smile slips a little. “Not yet,” he admits on a sigh. He brightens again. “But it’s kind of romantic, don’t you think. I mean, the only guy I didn’t bang from the very start was George-“

“And he was, like, two hundred years old,” Ted finishes. 

Emmett’s eyes narrow. He doesn’t like his relationship with the rich old man ridiculed. As unbelievable as it seems sometimes, I think he genuinely cared for George Shickle. “You should wish to ever receive a blow job like the ones George gave. What he lacked in youth, he definitely made up for in skill. I’d like to call myself an expert, but George surpassed me by miles.”

“So not what I needed to know,” I mutter. I see Em’s glare, and sigh. “Look, for me it’s like talking about uncle Vic having sex. I mean, sure, I want him to be happy and all, but when I was a little boy Vic was my male role model. Nobody likes to hear about their role models having sex.”

Em rolls his eyes. “And you are – what, five?”

“Here you go, boys.” Mom is back with our food, scowling at me from underneath her red wig. “And you,” she looks at me directly. “Eat your stupid pride and call the man. If you don’t believe me, talk to your best friend and let him explain you how it feels to spend year of your life wondering what might have been.”

“Leave Brian out of this,” I snap. Even though I’ve come to terms with Brian and Justin and that maybe, probably, they’re in it for good, it’s still a sore spot. I have a feeling it’ll be a long time before it heals. The little tramp all but stomped over Brian, flaunting he shiny new lover in front of his face, only to come back and pick up where he left. Yes, I know, it’s not quite like that, but for a long while it felt that way.

She ignores my comment and puts the plate in front of Em. “Honey, let me tell you something, and I’m emphasizing a woman’s perspective here. Let the man court you for a while. Sweets and flowers maybe. It’s a lot more promising than the boom and bang stuff most of you seem to prefer.”

“It might be more promising,” Ted quips around a mouthful of egg. “But is it equally satisfying?”

Mom whacks him over the head, making him choke. “I’m disappointed in you, Theodore Schmidt. You’re the oldest of the lost and I expected you to be more grown-up about this.”

“Thanks so much for pointing out my age,” Ted grumbles, rubbing the mistreated spot on his head. I see him wince when his fingers reach a bald area. I’m really glad I’m not struck by premature baldness. Shaved heads can be attractive in the young, but baldness in the middle-aged is a definite turn-off. 

“You’re welcome”, Mom replies cheerfully. “Isn’t your birthday coming up soon?”

“Alright.” Ted stops chewing and straightens in his chair. “If we’re done giving Teddy a hard time, can we go back to the matter at hand. Doesn’t anyone else feel a little freaked out by the fact that Em’s fucking … or sorry … being courted by Brian’s ex-shrink. It’s practically as if he’s banging Brian, the fucking Kinney, himself.”

“Please. As if Brian would ever do such a thing.” Actually, I think, Brian would do Em. Or might have done him, once. Before some blond twink made him forget about everything and everybody. Of course, I’d never admit to any of it.

“Brian would so do me,” Em insists, smiling confidently. 

I can’t resist rolling my eyes. “Dream on, Em. Besides, Brian’s got a one track mind these days.” The track being young, blond, and called Justin Taylor. Damn it all to hell. 

“So I missed the chance to try the best fuck in Pittsburgh. It might be a surprise to all of you, but I’ll live.” He grins cheekily, then winks at me. 

I feel a smile tugging at the corners of my lips. “Oh, well. So will I.” And I will. And maybe tonight, I’ll go see if Carl’s free. It’s not if I have anything else to do with my time.

*****

“Daddy!”

“Gus, no, stay here, don’t – “

I turn around just in time to catch something incredibly dirty and smelly in my arms, and my brain needs a moment to process the fact that the filthy bundle in my arms is, indeed, my very own son. 

“What the fuck?” The words are out before I can stop them, and, of course, Gus instantly leaps on them.

“You said the bad word,” he announces, looking at me seriously, his blue eyes, so much like Linds’, wide and earnest. 

“Yeah, you said the bad word.” 

Justin’s standing in the doorway, his body casually leaning against it, a huge grin on his face. I want to be mad at him, glare at him, but he looks so thoroughly fucked, all I can feel is that I want him again, and again, and again. And God help me, again. 

“Sorry,” I say, trying to look guilty, which I manage up to a certain degree. Not enough to fool Justin, but Gus buys it and that’s all that matters. 

“Don’t say it again.” He waggles his forefinger at me, and I have to bite my lip to suppress a grin. 

“I won’t,” I promise, knowing my mother would have a heart attack at this blatant lie. I look down at my offspring, wondering what the fuck happened to him. “Gus, why are you so dirty?”

“I helped really a lot,” he tells me, wiggling out of my arms and smearing the dirt all over my white robe. “I pulled roots from the ground.”

Exchanging a look with Justin, I sigh. “I can see that. And I can also see that you need a bath. A really long, really hot bath.”

“No.” Gus’ lip sticks out in a stubborn pout. “Don’t wanna.”

“Oh, no, young man. This isn’t open for discussion.” I cross my arms, looking down at him sternly. “Bath. Now.”

He stares up at me, then, mimicking my own movements, crosses his arms as well. “No.”

I hear Justin snicker from the doorway, and this time I send him a lethal glare before gazing back at the stubborn mini-me. “Gus. You look filthy, and you smell horrible. You need to bathe.”

“But … it’s in the middle of the day.” He delivers the words as if they explain everything. And to him they probably do. 

“What the f …” I stop myself at the very last moment. “I mean, so?”

“’Sides, I’m gonna pull more roots in the afternoon.”

Oh, fun. “I see. Well, more roots or not. We’re going to have lunch in an hour and you need to be clean.”

“Daaad.”

“No,” I say sternly, trying not to laugh. He looks like a very dirty, very cute little leprechaun. Justin isn’t any help either, standing there, looking like my personal love-slave and laughing at the same time. 

“You’re no fun,” Gus grumbles, but obediently trudges towards the bathroom. A moment later we both hear the water running. He’s learned to have a shower since we’ve been staying in Italy, and it makes him feel all grown up. Of course, it also makes him a lot more stubborn, if that’s even possible. 

“I like it when you’re authoritative.” Justin’s voice is low and seductive, like a tiger’s purr. It goes right through to my groin. I look up and see him walking toward me, that familiar little swagger in his hips. “It makes me want to fuck you so hard.”

I have to lick my lips. “I see. Care to prove that point to me?”

He stops two steps away. “Maybe tonight.”

Tonight? “Are you insane?”

“You are the one who sent his son in his bathroom. We can hardly fuck our brains out while Gus is in the shower. What if he comes out right in the middle of it?” There is laughter in his baby blues. 

“Fuck.”

“You promised not to use the bad word again.” And now they are sparkling.

I have to grin. “I did, didn’t I?” I take a deep breath and sigh, “Okay. I thought about something you said. As much as I want to make myself believe it, Mel’s hardly fallen from the face of the earth.”

He is serious, too. “What are we going to do?”

We. Not too long ago this would have had me running in panic. Not anymore though. I rub my forehead. There is no headache, but the movement is familiar, calming. “I have no fucking idea. The bitch probably has the police searching half of Europe for us. I wish we could just ignore it, but it’s not just about us. Gus needs to go back to school soon, and Sara … “ I think about my daughter who will never know Lindsay’s gentle smile, will never know how much her mother wanted and loved her. People will tell her, I’ll do it, but it’ll never be the same. 

He walks over to me and warps his arms around my middle, pressing his body close. I can feel his warmth, the way his chest expands with every breath. “We could call her. I mean, we do have her number, right?”

“Yes, we do.” I feel the familiar dull throbbing behind my right eye, and rub my forehead a little harder. “Fuck.” I know you should never wish bad things on a person – I was raised a good little catholic boy after all – but I can’t even count the time I was wondering why Linds has to go while Mel was allowed to stay. Probably just to punish me for my sins. And wouldn’t my Mom just love hearing me say this? 

I feel Justin’s palms stroke my back. “She loves the kids. She might be fucked up right now, but she loves them. We have to count on that.”

I know he’s right, but I still don’t like it. “Yeah. Like taking them over the Atlantic to keep them away from me. That really speaks of her love for them.”

“Brian.” He sighs loudly. I know he hates it when I’m unreasonable. I hate it, too – sometimes at least. But sometimes I need it, to stay sane. 

“Look, Sunshine, I know at some point – which has obviously left my mind – she must have loved them.” Another deep sigh. “Okay, fine, she loves them. But does that mean it’s good for them to be around her right now? I know you think I’m unreasonable, but right now that adjective fits Mel more.”

“I know. And I’m the last to insist she’s acting like the old Mel, but Gus misses her. Last night he asked about her. He wanted to know if his other Mom had gone to Heaven as well.”

The dull throbbing turns into bright hammering. “You’re playing dirty.”

“Maybe. Probably. But it’s a fact. Brian, this is about Gus and Sara, not you or me. Gus might be a little boy, but he understands a lot of what’s going on. Too much maybe. You should be the first to know what quarreling parents can do to a child.”

“My parents didn’t quarrel. They either glared or hit each other. There was no middle way. Most of the time they just pretended the other didn’t exist.”

“I know your childhood wasn’t fun. But this isn’t about yours. Or do you want Gus to go through the same things?”

I don’t even realize I shoved him away from me, that I’m suddenly stiff like a board, and I only notice my heart hammering in my chest when I see him reaching out for me with one hand. 

“Brian-“

“Never.” My voice is tight, very controlled, very angry, “I would never hit my children. I am not my father.”

“Brian-“

“No.” I shake my head, my posture making it clear that I don’t want to be touched. How can he believe, even suggest – For a moment I feel as if I can’t breathe. “How dare you make this my fault? I wasn’t the one fighting dirty, I wasn’t the one starting this whole mess.”

He presses his lips together, obviously trying to decide what to do next. Finally, he runs a hand through his hair, and his blue eyes seem to see into mine like blue laser beams. “I love you, Brian. My partner of four years beat me. I would never be with you, never love you if I thought you’d be anything like that. And I didn’t suggest you could be like your father. I know you’re not.” 

His eyes never leaving mine, he walks toward me, then stops and his hand come up and wrap around my arms. “I know you’re not like your Dad. But Brian, this isn’t about you. It’s about Gus and Sara, and the fact that they already lost a mother. Whatever Mel’s problems are, they need her in their lives. They need to know she is there and loves them. Brian, you know how important a mother’s love is, or the lack of it.”

I stare at him, then blink, then close my eyes for a moment. When I open them again, Justin is still looking at me intently. Slowly, I reach out and touch his hair, soft like a baby’s, almost as light as it was when I first met him, due to the Tuscan sun. 

“Dad? Can I use the red towel?”

We both laugh, the tension breaking, my headache subsiding. “Sure.” It’s a big, red fluffy towel, Gus loved from the start.

“Yay!”

“He loves you Brian. He’ll not stop loving you just because Mel’s in his life, too.”

I slightly tug at his hair, and his grins. “You’re too smart for your own good. Alright, Taylor, let’s call Mel tonight.” I kiss him soundly, then let him go, before turning to the bathroom to survey the damage Gus did by taking a simple shower. But I stop, and look back at him over my shoulder, “But I’m giving you the receiver as soon as she starts shouting.”

He winks. “You’re on,” he says, before swaggering out of the room.

*****

An insistent ringing wakes me from a fitful sleep, and I have to blink to notice that I’m in some sleazy motel room in Paris, a third rate establishment with at least one big cockroach underneath my bed. I dreamt it would run right over my face, and now I’m surprised it didn’t. 

The ringing continues and I finally realize it’s my cell phone lying on the small table near by. I reach for it and flip it open. “Yeah?”

“It’s me.”

I’m glad I’m lying because otherwise I would’ve dropped to the floor. “Where the fuck are you? And what the fuck did you do to my kids?” I snarl, not bothering with any pretense. 

“As soon as I got them I dropped them into the Seine to get rid of them once and for all,” Brian snaps, his voice dripping with acid. I can’t believe he called. I was prepared to hunt for him all over Europe, probably the world. And here he is, calling me as if nothing happened, the miserable bastard.

“You kidnapped my children, Kinney. You’re going to rot in jail until you’re sixty. I’ve already informed the French authorities.” I’m not telling him that none of them were interested, that at the embassy they almost laughed in my face. 

I hear him sigh through the line, and I’m not sure what that means. Then he surprises me by saying, “Mel, listen. Don’t you think we could talk like adults for a change? This isn’t about us, or that we can’t stand each other.”

For a moment I’m reminded of the man who stood in my office not too long ago, asking my help for Justin, the one that almost made me believe Brian Kinney might have a heart, that, maybe, Linds was right after all. But then I think about all the things the bastard put me through these past weeks, the way he abandoned not just his kids but also Linds when she was fighting for her life, and the feeling vanishes into thin air. 

“Bullshit. This is about you wanting your kids. You just can’t stand the fact that they’re mine now. I am their parent. You are nothing.” I’m almost frightened that it feels so good to say it, that, finally, I’m the one in charge. He’s been the bane of my existence for so long, I want him to feel it for a change. If that means fighting dirty, well, so be it. 

“Mel-“

“No. You are going to listen to me. You will bring the children back here. You will then fly back to Pittsburgh, and maybe, if I feel charitable I’ll let you see them in a few months. They’re mine now. You might be the sperm donor, but that’s where it ends.”

“You fucking-“

“Hi, Mel. It’s me, Justin.” 

“Give me the fucking phone,” I hear Brian in the background.

“No,” Justin’s firm voice replies before he seems to turn his attention back to me. “Hey. How are you?”

“Why do you want to know that?” Okay, yeah, it sounds a little paranoid. But can you really blame me?

“It’s me, Justin. We used to be friends, remember?”

“Yeah, well, we used to be a lot of things, but I have problems with the company you’re keeping these days.” I really sound like a revengeful bitch. Justin isn’t Brian, but he is *with* Brian, and that’s enough right now. He helped him take the kids, didn’t do anything to prevent it. 

“Gus and Sara are fine, by the way,” he says. I close my eyes, as I feel them water up. “And Gus misses you, but obviously you’re too busy holding a grudge, instead of wondering if they’re okay.” His initial cordiality is gone, his voice is sharp and angry now, not at all like the little blond twink, but someone who has been through a lot and was left standing.

“Can … uh … can I talk to Gus?” I hate that my voice breaks, that he witnesses my weakness. 

“He’s downstairs, helping Luciana bake some cookies,” he informs me. Who the fuck is Luciana? 

“Cookies? Why is he baking fucking cookies?” But then, what do I want? Would I prefer him sitting in a corner, crying his eyes out? A part of me wants Gus to do just that, wants to hear that he can’t live without me. The other part, however, is sane enough to know it’s ridiculous to think such a thing, that it’s cruel even. Yet, not all of me seems to care.

“Because he loves cookies,” Justin says quietly. “He loves being here, and Sara has gained a pound already. But Gus still misses you. He doesn’t whine, but Gus isn’t a whiner. Still, yesterday before he fell asleep, he said he missed you.”

And my mind latches on one thing only. “You were bringing him to bed? Where was his precious father? Fucking around with the gardener’s son?”

A heavy sigh comes through the line. “Mel, that’s low even for you. What has Brian ever done to you that you hate him so much?”

“What hasn’t he?” 

“Maybe you should just wake up and realize that you’re responsible as much as Brian for the problems in your life.”

Now the little shit is playing the guilt card. “Thanks so much for your compassion. But what can I expect from someone who seems to enjoy being someone’s bitch.”

I hear him suck in a sharp breath, and when he speaks his voice is utterly flat. “You know what? I actually bullied Brian into calling you. I thought because Gus loves you, and because the kids have already lost one mother, you should be with them. Brian didn’t think so. He thinks you’re a heartless, self-centered bitch who couldn’t care less about her children. You know what the sad thing is? He’s right. I’m really sorry I made him call you.”

“Now, listen you … Justin? Justin!” Nothing. Only a beeping sound reaches my ears. The bastard actually hung up on me. He had the guts to end the call just like that, without telling me where they are of what they’re going to do. 

I feel my hand tremble, and the phone falls on the bed, blinking madly. My body starts shaking and I wrap my arms around it, trying to keep it together. But then a sound escapes my lips, high, almost like keening and it increases in volume, coming in gasps while my body starts convulsing. 

I’m pathetic. Beyond pathetic.

I feel saliva run from the right corner of my mouth, and my head starts to pound. 

God. Oh God. 

The my fingers lace together, stiff, like claws and I feel my legs jerking. 

My face feels hot as if lava is running over it, as if someone’s poured a bottle of hot oil over me. 

Oh God.

My lips move, but no sound is coming from them now. I feel my eyelids flutter, then jerk open again, but I can’t focus, the room swimming around me. 

I try to grab the phone but it slips from the bed and lands on the floor with a thud. I reach for it, but it’s so far away, as if an ocean is between it and my hand. The hand that’s more like a claw, the fingers not obeying anymore.

I fall on the bed, lying on my right side, the dirty sheets touching my cheek, but at the same time it seems as if a part of me is floating above, away, so far away. I feel my consciousness slip and my last thought is …

Oh God. What is happening to me?


	13. Loose Ends

We wake up from the insistent ringing of Brian’s cell in the middle of the night two days later, both disoriented. Brian recovers first, and grabs for it, flipping it open. But instead of answering it, he presses the damn thing to my ear. 

“If that’s Mel,” he says, “tell her to fuck off. I’m not talking to the cunt.”

Huh? Blinking the sleep from my eyes I take the phone from him. “Yes?”

“Justin, honey, is that you?”

“Deb?” What the fuck? “You realize it’s in the middle of the night, right?”

“It is?” she replies, but doesn’t seem to care anyway. “Justin, I’m sorry but this is an emergency.”

“Emergency?” I’m suddenly wide awake, and so is Brian next to me. He reaches to his nightstand and switches the light on, making me blink. “Is Mom alright? Molly? What about Brian’s family?”

“As far as I know they’re all fine, sunshine. It’s not about them. It’s about Mel.”

“Mel?” I frown, and look at Brian who wears an equally puzzled expression. “What about Mel?”

I hear Deb take a deep breath, “A doctor called us. Seems that Mel had my phone number in her purse.”

“What?” Confused, I run my fingers through my hair. “Doctor?”

“She’s in a hospital in Paris. The cleaning lady in her hotel found her yesterday morning in her room.”

“Found her…?”

“Yes,” Deb says. “Of course the guy barely spoke – doesn’t anyone in France speak English?” I keep myself from pointing out that in Paris, people usually speak French. It doesn’t matter anyway. “Well, from what I got it seems Mel had some kind of epileptic episode. From what they found in her blood it seems it was due to a mixture of booze and drugs. Oh, honey, she has to be in bad shape to have gone so far.”

I look at Brian, whose ear is pressed to the cell as well so he can listen in. “Ask her why Mel was in a hotel room?” 

“I heard him.” Deb sighs loudly, “I have no idea. The last time Mel called she seemed unstable, but I never expected something like this.”

“Neither did we,” I tell her, completely shocked. “What about her aunt?”

“Aunt?” Deb seems confused. “The doctor didn’t say anything about an aunt.”

“Damn.” Brian ruffles his hair. “Fuck.”

“What?” I stare at him. Did I miss something? “What?”

“We’re taking the first possible flight,” he says. 

“Flight?” Sure, I had 1500 on my S.A.T.s, but right now I don’t know what’s going on. 

“Or rather,” Brian snatches the phone from me. “Deb … I’m flying to Paris as soon as possible. Don’t worry. But I’m going to leave Justin and the kids here. No need to get them all worked up about over this.”

What? Leave me and the kids … No way! Absolutely no fucking way! “Brian-“ I start to protest, but he lifts a hand to stop me. 

“I know, Deb. We’re in Italy. Yes, we’re all fine. … I’ll call you as soon as I find out what’s going on. Okay, bye.” He clicks the phone shut and throws it on the bed, right in front of me, then gets up and walks to the window where he stops and stares outside into the darkness. “Fuck,” is all he says.

Not sure what to do, I stay in the bed. Sometimes I feel I need to go to him, wrap my arms around him, touch him in any possible way, but not now. He seems so far away, distant in a way I remember from long ago. But it’s not long ago, it’s today, and he’s not going to push me away again. “I’m coming with you.”

He doesn’t respond, just stands there, staring outside, his perfect body outlined by the dark window. It seems like forever until he speaks. “Why?” is the only word coming from him.

I frown, not sure what this is about. He seems stiff, distant. “What do you mean – why?”

He runs his long, beautiful fingers through his hair, his hand finally coming to lay on his nape as if he wants to rub out some kind of kink. “Is it because you don’t trust me?”

“What the fuck?” I’m out of the bed and at his side in a flash. Grabbing his arm, I whirl him around. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

His eyes are big and luminous, deep, dark pools of vulnerability I never thought I’d see in Brian Kinney. “Justin, I need you to stay here with the kids while I take care of this …” He gestures with his free hand, “Whatever this is with Mel, it’s bad and I don’t want the kids exposed to it. Gus had enough, he doesn’t need more. He’s happy here and he loves you. And I need you to trust me in this.”

Bewildered I shake my head. Did I miss something important here? “Brian, what is this bullshit about trust? I trust you, you know that.”

“Do I?” He blinks, his eyes suddenly flat and cold. “Why do you want to come with me Justin?”

I look him straight in the eye. “Because I’m your partner and because I want to be there for you.” I pause, then add, “Because I love you.”

At that a shudder runs through his body and his stance instantly relaxes. He exhales and after a moment wraps his arms around me, pulling me close. “Sorry,” he mumbles in my hair. “I’m an asshole,” he laughs slightly, “but you already knew that.”

I chuckle in his chest, “Yeah. But you’re my asshole.”

“That I am,” he says, tightening his hold around me. “I’d love to have you with me, Justin. And if I was still the selfish bastard I once was, I probably would, but Gus needs you here.” He pauses and takes a deep breath, “I need you here. I need to know that you’ll look after the kids while I take care of this mess. Fuck, drugs and booze. What the fuck was she thinking.”

“Probably nothing.” Frankly, after our last conversation on the phone I’m not as shocked as I would’ve been otherwise. 

I feel his palms on my back, a little rough, but also soft, moving up and down. It’s a soothing motion, and I’m not sure if it’s meant for me or for him. “I’m going to miss you.” His voice is hoarse, and barely above a whisper. 

“Like crazy,” I reply, leaning my cheek against his smooth chest. “But you’re right, Gus is been through enough. And Luciana is totally in love with Sara.”

Brian sighs, but I can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks. “Little heartbreakers, both of them already. Our life’s never going to get boring.”

“We’re going to keep them, huh?” I don’t mind keeping the kids. Actually, I kind of look forward to it. But I’m not so sure about Brian. True, he’s matured a lot, but having two small children 24/7? 

“Seems that way. If what Deb told us about Mel is right – and I have no doubt it is after the way she acted lately – then there’s no other way. We can hardly leave them with a mother who’s that unstable, parental rights or not.”

“You need to call Fiona.”

“I know.” He sighs again. “But I’ll wait until after I’ve seen Mel. I don’t have much hope, but maybe after this happened she’ll come to her senses.”

“Maybe.” I can’t help the doubt in my voice, I don’t have much hope, either. God, I wish I knew what to do. But as much as I hate it, staying with Gus and Sara is probably the thing that’ll help Brian most right now. 

I raise my head and look at him for a short moment before our lips meet and we kiss with something close to despair. It’s still hours until sunrise and we’re not going to waste them.

*****

“In a hospital?” Jennifer motions me to come inside, looking at me with a worried frown. “What happened?”

“The fuck if I know.” I see Jennifer wince ever so slightly, but for once I don’t fucking care. “This French doctor called telling me in something that was supposed to be English that Mel was found in a sleazy hotel room, unconscious. Seems the blood checked out positive for alcohol and drugs.”

Jennifer’s eyes widen in shock, “Drugs?”

“Could be the meds she’s been taking lately.” And I wish to God it’s just that. But I have a bad feeling, a very bad feeling. 

“So you called Brian and Justin?”

I nod. “Brian’s probably arriving there as we speak.”

“I see.” Jennifer leads me into the living-room where Molly sits playing with a Game-Boy. “What about Justin and the kids?”

“They’re staying at …” I trail off and frown. I still don’t know shit. “Well, wherever they’re staying.”

“Ah.” She nods and offers me a seat, but I refuse, giving Molly a smile. 

“Hi, Mrs. Novotny,” the girl greets me absentmindedly, keeping her attention on her computer game. 

“Molly, why don’t you take your game and go to your room?”

The girl rolls her eyes, obviously used to this kind of behavior from her mother. She looks at me, making a face, “She thinks I’m still a baby. Geez!” With a another eye-roll, she sweeps from the room. 

“Sorry,” Jennifer apologizes as soon as Molly has closed the door from the outside. “Teenagers.”

I smile at her. “Don’t worry, I know all about teenagers.” More than I want to sometimes. Plus, until not too long ago, Michael was still caught in that stage. Which reminds me that he has decided to see Carl tonight, and I’m keeping all my fingers crossed. 

Jennifer gives me a look and chuckles. “I suppose you do. You sure you don’t want to sit down? We could have a cup of coffee or something.” She sighs loudly, “You wouldn’t believe how I sometimes need to talk to a grown up.”

I have to grin. Sometimes – even close to sixty – I’m not sure I fit the description. “Heard anything from Joan Kinney?” Not that I really care. I mean, sure, I can appreciate the woman’s making some kind of effort, but in the end to me she’s still nothing but a selfish bitch.

“As a matter of fact, yes. She was here not too long ago.” Jennifer is clearly not happy with it. Whatever happened between the two of them hasn’t been pleasant. “I tried to make her understand that her relationship with her priest is counterproductive to whatever she wants to have with Brian. I’m not sure I got through.”

“Say what you want, the woman’s as cold as a fish.” Maybe the analogy is a little askew, but in a way Joan always reminded me of a flounder. 

Jennifer sighs heavily. “It’s such a shame. She and Brian both could profit so much if they’d be able to establish something like a mother-son connection.” She takes a deep breath, “Anyway, promise me to keep me up to date should you hear anything from Brian?”

Maybe she should think about her connection with her own son, but then, who am I to throw the first stone? “I will,” I say. “And now I could really use a cup of strong coffee.”

*****

“Monsieur Kinney?”

I turn around and see a man in a white coat looking at me, the dark eyes serious, the hair impeccable. There were times when I would’ve cruised him despite the situation. But I’m not that man anymore, and I’m not sorry.

I smile at him, but it’s cool, not seductive as it would once have been. “I am Brian Kinney.”

He holds out his hand and we shake. “I’m doctor Pierre Gavon. I am glad you came.” His English is fluent but with a thick French accent. 

“How is Miss Marcus?”

He motions me to a room at the end of the hall. We step inside and he offers me a chair in front of a desk that is littered with papers and books. He himself sits down in a leather chair behind it. “Miss Marcus,” he begins without further delay, “is a very sick woman, Mr. Kinney.”

“Mrs. Novotny told me something about a combination of alcohol and drugs?” 

He nods, “Yes, that is correct. It seems that the medicine she was taking, as far as we know anti-depressants and sleeping pills, combined with whiskey and stronger drinks caused an epileptic episode. From the blood work we had done there is no doubt.”

I already knew the gist of it from Deb, but hearing it from Dr. Gavon makes it more real somehow. “What does that mean?” 

He leans forward and steeples his fingers to rest his chin on top of them. “Mainly two things. One, Miss Marcus will be in need of serious psychotherapy. I understand that Miss Marcus has two children?”

“Yes. She’s not their biological mother, but yes.” Because Justin is right. Mel is their mother. Gus has known her as one of his mothers his entire life. 

“I see.” He takes a deep breath, “Which leads us to number two. For the time being she is in no way fit to take care of small children. But I suppose you kind of expected that.”

I did. “Yes. Look, I’m going to be honest with you. The kids are mine. I live in committed relationship with a man.” At least I hope we do. Geez, and did I really think that? Seems I’m really growing up – and strangely enough, I don’t mind it at all. Keeping my fingers crossed, and hoping what I say is no lie, I continue, “We used AI with Miss Marcus’ former life partner to have the two kids. Because of the circumstances Miss Marcus and Miss Peterson, the biological mother of the children, shared the parental rights.”

“I see.” Doctor Gavon shuffles through some files, before he finds what he’s been looking for. He holds out a sheet and rubs the bridge of his nose with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. “This is the recommendation I got from the psychiatrist who saw Miss Marcus this morning.”

“Is she awake?” I’m surprised. I expected her to be in some kind of coma or at least not quite herself. 

The doctor nods. “Oh, yes. She woke up last night. She wasn’t quite coherent then, but she is lucid now. Francine, I mean Doctor Dubois saw her this morning. She’s head of our psychiatric ward. From what she wrote, there is no doubt that Miss Marcus needs to be looked after for at least several months. And even after that, she will have a long way to go. Apart from the obvious drug and alcohol abuse, she’s severely malnourished and her vitamin and electrolyte levels need close observation. In short,” he looks up and right into my eye, “Mr. Kinney, Miss Marcus shows every sign of someone who didn’t take care of herself. That, in my opinion, makes her unfit to take care of others.”

“I don’t doubt that, Doctor.” I’m not sure what impression he’s got, or if maybe I need to clarify things. “And I have every intention of taking care of my kids. It’s just that according to the law I have no rights to them.”

He sighs heavily. “American law seems complicated, no? I take care of my two teenage daughters and I live with a man myself.” A smile plays around his lips and it makes him devastatingly attractive. For a moment I feel the old flutter in my gut, but it’s gone in an instant. It’s not really important, just a reminder that I’m still who I am. It feels nice, but that’s it. 

I have to grin. “Must be a life-altering experience. The baby, my younger child, is a girl.”

Doctor Gavon chuckles. “You have no idea. Mine are twins, both fourteen. It’s enough to make my hair turn grey.” 

My eyes are drawn to the silver strands near his temples. We share a short laugh, then he turns serious again. “I am not familiar with your law, Mr. Kinney. I am only stating facts. And they say that Miss Marcus will not be fit to take care of the children for quite some time. A psychiatrist has to determine when and if she can be a mother again.”

I nod. He’s been frank and I appreciate it. “Thanks for being so open about it.”

“You’re welcome.”

Something else bothers me. “Did you inform anyone else about Mel, I mean, Miss Marcus? She has an aunt who lives in Paris.” 

Doctor Gavon sighs again. “When Miss Marcus was coherent, she insisted there was nobody. But it’s not uncommon in such cases. People like Miss Marcus tend to isolate themselves from friends and relatives.”

No surprise there. Not that Mel and I were ever friends, but her recent behavior was strange – even for her. “I can’t make any decisions for her. If she needs to be treated in a closed facility someone has to decide.”

The doctor looks at me seriously. “You shouldn’t concern yourself with this, Mr. Kinney. Take care of the children and any legal problems that might occur. We will take care of the rest. If you can give us any address we will contact the family and I’m sure they will do what they can for Miss Marcus. I know you feel responsible, but I have a feeling you have enough on your agenda already.”

Seems he really knows what he’s talking about. “Thanks. And yeah, more than enough. The only address I have for you is her aunt.” I take a piece of paper from his desk and write down the information I remember. I’m sure the old cunt won’t be happy to be bothered with this, but I’m just not the one who can decide what’s going to happen. “I suppose Mel’s not happy with all this.”

Doctor Gavon gives me a wry grin. “You are not wrong. She called me a typical gay asshole.” I have to grin, too and he laughs knowingly. “I guess you are familiar with that kind of behavior.”

“You can say that again.” Melanie Marcus, self assigned cock-hater and uber-bitch. It’s hard to think of her as a psychiatric case. “She’s the kind of dyke who turns pale at the idea of a dick.”

“I see.” He is silent for a moment, then picks up a pen and scribbles something down. Holding a card out to me, he says, “This is my address and I added my private phone number. If you should need anything to deal with your authorities …” He trails off and I smile at him gratefully.

“Thanks. What about that stuff your psychiatrist wrote. It might prove useful in a trial or anything.”

“I can’t give you that, Mr. Kinney,” he replies and I can see the honest regret on his face. “That’s confidential doctor-patient information. I was already walking a tight rope by telling you its contents in the first place. But I also know that you need to know what’s going on – for the children’s sake. However, your social authorities can order a copy through the court.”

“Ah.” I make a mental note to call Fiona as soon as possible so she can start proceeding. Then I get up. He does, too. We shake hands and with another nod he walks down the hallway while I turn into the other direction. 

*****

I take a deep breath at hearing the door bell ring. I shouldn’t be nervous about this, I didn’t do anything wrong, I’m not exactly unhappy about my life right now, and still, my heart rate increases and my palms are sweaty when I reach for the knob and pull the door open. 

“Hi.” Michael fidgets with his hands, and I feel a lot calmer. He’s as nervous as I am. Thank God. 

“Hey,” I greet him. He steps inside, and we stare at each other, both not sure what to do. He looks good. I’d almost forgotten how his eyes sparkle or how that nervous little smile of his makes my heart flutter. It’s like the day we met. He wasn’t even my type, but the attraction was powerful and instant. 

He wipes his palms at his jeans. “I … uh … Thanks for taking the time to talk to me.”

I wonder if I should say you’re welcome, but then decide for the truth. “I’m glad you came,” I tell him. At a second glance I notice deep rings underneath his eyes, and some lines I haven’t seen before. We walk into the kitchen of my newly acquired apartment. “You want something to drink?”

“Do you have a coke?”

“Sure.” I grab one from the fridge, glad to have something to do. “Here you go.” I hold it out for him and when he takes it from me our fingers brush. We both look up, startled at the unexpected contact, and our eyes meet – and hold. 

It’s as if the world stops turning for a second, as if nothing’s alive, but us. I can our breaths, and the clock ticking on the counter. Then Michael looks away and the spell is broken. 

Michael clears his throat. “Mom told me you … ah … friend went back to England.”

“Yeah.” Friend. Hmm. I’m not sure we were even that. Fuck buddies, yeah. We liked each other, sort of. But friends? It’s not as if I’m heartbroken that he’s gone. Maybe I’ll give him a call some time. Maybe not. Who knows.

Michael nods. He opens the can of coke, takes a sip, swallows, then takes another sip before he clears his throat again. “Ah … you … uh … going to see him … ah … again?”

I have to bite down a smile “Maybe. You never know, but we haven’t talked about it. As far as I know his return to England is meant to be long term.” I look at Michael, sitting there, sipping from his drink, trying not to show his anxiety, and decide to take pity on him. “Michael, it wasn’t anything serious. We both were … lonely, I guess. And we kind of clicked. But there was never anything else.”

Michael’s lids flicker, and he looks at me through half lowered lashes. “Really?” The hope in his voice goes right to my gut. 

“Really.” Yet, there’s things he needs to know. “But be that as it may, it doesn’t mean we can just go back to how things were.” He can’t hide his disappointment at that, but I plunge on, “For one, I’m not going to move back in with you. I like this apartment, and I think I need some time. I still care for you, but I need my own space for a change.”

He takes another sip from his coke. “I see. Not quite what I was hoping for.” He snorts, “No, that’s a lie. I have really no idea what I’ve been hoping for. Mom told me your … whatever he was … was gone, but what does it mean? And, does it mean anything at all? I just …” he gestures with his drink, “didn’t want to leave things the way they were. We didn’t part on the best of terms.”

“No, we didn’t,” I agree. Geez, we’re really getting emotional. I need a break, so I change the subject. “How is Brian?”

Michael grins at me, then rolls his eyes. “How the fuck should I know? He took Justin, then he took the kids from Mel and now he’s in some godforsaken European country, probably hiding from the police.” He takes another sip, “You know, Carl, I was wondering how nervous *you* were, because frankly I was almost pissing in my pants waiting for you to answer the door. But I just got my answer. You have to be pretty nervous to actually ask me about Brian.”

I sigh and run a hand through my hair. Busted. 

*****

“How did you do it?” I stare out of the tiny window where the sky is black, and where it seems as if all the stars are gone on vacation. Not even the moon is shining. I know there’s no other way, but I’m already missing Tuscany, Luciana and our life there. Yes, there were problems but in the light of the Italian sun and the Tuscan colors they didn’t seem quite as bad. Plus, I really wanted to see Siena and the art there. 

Brian turns to me, his expression puzzled. Sara is sleeping on his lap while Gus is snoring softly on the seat beside us. “What?”

“I wonder how you managed to get three seats in the matter of some hours? It couldn’t have been easy.” Not that I’m really surprised. This is Brian Kinney we’re talking about, king of the impossible. 

He shrugs, “I hate leaving Tuscany as much as you do, Justin. I wish we could stay for a few months, half a year, but we both know we can’t do that.” He rubs a spot above his eye and I know there’s a headache brewing. 

I reach over and put a hand on his other arm. The hand attached to it strokes Sara’s silk-soft hair. It’s only a few strands, she started growing them while we were in Tuscany. “Brian, I’m not saying it’s your fault. I know it’s not. I know we have to go back and clean up this mess. I don’t blame you for this.”

He rubs the spot a little harder, his eyes not quite meeting mine. “Fiona said the authorities were in favor of our request. Whatever the fuck that means.” His gaze finally shifts and he’s looking at me. “I’m sorry you have to go through this, Justin. You’ve been through enough for more than one life-time.” 

I have to smile. It’s such a Brian-thing to say. “That’s such bullshit,” I reply softly and I can see his startled jerk at the words. “What? You expect me to have a joy ride with you? Please! This is you and me, we’ve been angsting through almost two years together. You thought this was going to be smooth sailing? Wake up!”

Again he rubs the spot, but he chuckles. “Damn, you’re too smart for your own good.” He sighs, “Still, I’m sorry for dragging you into this. Or maybe Mel should apologize to you.” He shrugs again, one of his hands still stroking Sara. Her eyes are closed tightly, her tiny button nose twitching from time to time. Brian has a very strange look on his face, one I’ve never seen before. 

“What?” I ask, and feel my cock twitch in my pants. Damn, he looks so sexy with a baby, even fully dressed, even in this plane. Damn. I blink, trying to keep my thoughts to myself. It’s neither the time and place to entertain these things, especially with two little kids in tow. Otherwise we might join the mile high club, but not this time. 

Thank God Brian seems oblivious to the world outside, including me, right now. His eyes are riveted on his daughter. “She already looks like Linds.” He draws a deep breath, then exhales slowly, “She could be a pain in the ass, but I’m going to miss her anyway.”

My hand on his arm tightens. I’m going to miss Linds, too. Hell, I already am missing her. “She was one of the few who supported me when nobody else would. You know, at the beginning when everyone thought I was just the twink who wouldn’t go away.”

He grins slightly. “You were. Linds was delusional. Do you know she came to me right before I was supposed to leave for New York?”

“Oh?” I’m not sure what it means, but I have a feeling it’s important. 

“Yeah. She told me I was a fool for leaving. That you really loved me.” Brian shakes his head, looks at his daughter, then at me. “I didn’t want to hear it. I was running, and I didn’t know it. God, I was such an idiot.”

My heart expands at his words. But another part of me wants to hit him for being so stupid then. We both would have been spared so much. People say that suffering forms character, and maybe it’s the truth, but I wouldn’t have minded not living through the nightmare that was Ethan. 

“She also saw what I wouldn’t, that you were unhappy, that by taking you in I was responsible for you. But instead of treating you with kindness I was abusing you in the worst way.” He gives a choky little laugh. “Geez, these kids really are lucky. One mother dead, the other a mental case and their father a bastard. They sure knew how to pick them.”

I want to say something, tell him that he’s wrong, but at least partially he is right – unfortunately. The second part, however … “Gus and Sara *are* lucky,” I say forcefully. Not caring for the other passengers, I lean over and kiss him full on the mouth, letting my lips linger, letting my tongue trace the outline of his before I pull away, making sure he gets the message. “And so am I. I always knew you were the one, you were just a little slow in the uptake.”

His eyes are unfocussed and I give myself a mental pat on the shoulder for a thorough kiss. Brian licks his lips, then takes a shaky breath. “Wow,” he whispers. “You can repeat that any time.”

“I will,” I assure him. “Later. When we’re alone and can proceed properly.” I hear someone behind us mutter something about dirty fags, and give the person the mental finger. Idiots. “Because I’m going to fuck you so hard,” I breathe, “that you’ll not be able to sit for a week.”

Our eyes meet and hold, and I’m glad both kids are fast asleep. Brian’s pupils are large and dark, the brown barely recognizable. His breath is coming in short gasps. I feel them stroke my skin, blow softly over my lips, like a reminder of what we just shared. “Are you now?” he says, recovering slightly. 

“Uh-huh. And afterwards we’re going to kick some serious ass.” We look at each other again and then both start grinning. “What do you think, Kinney?”

He lets go of Sara’s hair, and instead reaches out to me, touching mine, his fingers trading through my strands. “I think that you’re good for me, Taylor. You’re damn good for me and I was a fool not to realize it earlier.”

I have to swallow hard at his words, my throat feels dry and tight. “Yeah, well, a little slow on the uptake.”

His answering smile is slow and seductive and makes my cock twitch in anticipation. “Slow can be good.”

“Very good,” I croak. God, is that really my voice. I wonder what the homophobe behind us is thinking now. Hope she’s having a heart attack. 

“Fast and hard can be good, too.” 

Jesus! “Ah … ahm.”

His grin widens. “Very vocal, Taylor.” His hand is still in mine, warm, strong, and capable. I squeeze it and he threads his fingers through mine. He looks at me long and hard before his gaze softens, “I love you, Justin.”

And my heart simply melts. “I love you, too. So very much.” And really, in the end it’s all that matters. 

*****

I see Fiona the moment we walk out of the security area. She wears an expensive costume by Armani and waves enthusiastically – well, what goes for enthusiastic in her case, which means her hand is raised and her fingers move ever so slightly. The woman really has style. 

“Brian! Here!” I see Deb beside her and wonder how those two fit together. Or not. My stomach gives a painful squeeze at the mental image. Christ! Talk about nauseating thoughts. 

“Hey,” Justin greets Fiona while he’s cradling Sara to his chest. He once told me I was looking hot holding a baby. But I’ll be damned if he doesn’t look twice as hot. His smile is bright and big when he turns to Deb. “Hi. What are you doing here?”

“Sunshine,” she screeches, hurting our ears as she crushes Justin to her chest. I hope my daughter has a good lung capacity or she might suffocate. At her wail, Deb lets go of Justin and croons at the baby. “My little dumpling. How are you, baby girl? Can I hold her? Justin, Give her to me. She needs a woman’s touch.”

He does so after a short hesitation, mumbling something about Luciana and enough woman’s touch for an entire life. I grin down at Gus who’s holding my hand and scrunching up his nose, no doubt eternally grateful that he isn’t a baby anymore. Maybe he remembers all those times Debbie tried to suffocate him.

“Hello, Brian,” Fiona greets me, her voice cool and cultured. “How are you?”

“Tired,” I tell her. “Angry.”

She looks at me thoughtfully for a moment, then nods, her long neck bowing gracefully in the process. “It was bad.”

“Yes, very bad. But that’s for another time.” I glance at Gus and see understanding in her eyes. “Right now I need to know what we’ll have to expect.” I notice Justin perking up and moving close to my side, the back of his hand brushing mine. 

Fiona sighs and waves to someone at her back. A young man I haven’t seen before, holds out a dark blue briefcase for her. She opens it, draws out a file and hands it to me. “I need you to sign these. Read through everything as soon as you find the time and then send them back to me. You’re lucky it’s Saturday. Nobody’s working tomorrow.”

“What’s going to happen on Monday?” Justin has taken my hand, and I feel the tremble in his. I wonder if mine are trembling as well. I’m not sure. 

“Not much, fortunately. I’ve managed to get child care to back off for the time being. I did my best to explain the situation to them and thank God Miss Geshner, the case worker, has a gay brother, so she agreed to leave the kids with you for now. She realises that the worst they could do at the moment would be giving them to strangers.” She sighs, and for the first time I notice the dark circles underneath her eyes. Almost on an afterthought she adds, “Oh, and that’s Clive.”

I feel my right brow go up. “A new assistant?” He’s definitely hot. Young. His clothing impeccable. Yeah, definitely my style. 

In another life.

She snorts. “Intern. Okay, read through the papers, then sign them for me. And if we’re lucky, everything should be fine by the end of the week.”

Stunned I can nothing but stare. I didn’t expect this. My worst scenario was some bitch trying to take Gus away from me right at the airport. “You’re good,” is all that comes to my mind. 

She draws herself up to her full height. “Of course I’m good. You should know, you pay me enough.” She grins at the end and I wink at her. For a moment she freezes, surprised and maybe even a bit shocked, before her grin returns. “You know, if you were not gay …” She trails off and we both know what she means.

“The same to you,” I reply, grinning even wider when I hear Justin clear his throat beside me. Deb is still holding the baby, whispering softly, and a thought occurs. “You know, Deb. If you’re interested you could keep her for the night. I might even forget that you didn’t say hello to me if you take Gus as well.”

She blushes, “Oh, honey. You have to know how glad I am you’re back. We all missed you.” There is something in her eyes, but I decide to ignore it for tonight. I just can’t deal with Michael’s problems on top of all this. 

“Alright,” Fiona hands the briefcase back to Clive, the intern, and runs her palms over the front of her jacket. “Get back to me as soon as possible so I can start proceedings. I’ll try to reach Melanie’s aunt in Paris.” She looks at me sharply, “Don’t try to reach her on your own. After the stunt you pulled you better stay as far away from her as possible.”

“Aye, aye Ma’am.” I mock salute her and she narrows her eyes.

“Don’t ever call me Ma’am again! Justin,” she turns to the man at my side, “keep an eye on him. This one’s trouble.”

And the blond devil winks at her. “Do tell! Any pointers you can give me?”

Fiona rolls her eyes, “You’re just as bad as he is.” She sighs loudly, then turns to Deb, “What about you? Need a ride back?”

Deb gives me a look. “I’m sure Brian can afford to pay a cab for me and his baby daughter. And Gus, do you want to stay with aunt Deb?” She leans down and smiles at my son. 

Gus seems to consider it, and to my surprise nods after a short hesitation. “Can I, Dad?” Seems he doesn’t remember the suffocation after all. Or maybe he’s forgiven her. I know I have.

“Okay,” I agree quickly, and hear Justin laugh softly beside me. Brat. “Be a good boy for Debbie.”

“I’m always good,” Gus insists, his jaw set in the very same way Mel’s is when she feels she’s been insulted. Christ! 

“Sure you are,” I tell him quickly, stroking over his head. We walk out of the terminal and Fiona and the intern climb into a car that’s parked in a red zone. It doesn’t surprise me. They wave goodbye and I call for a cab. Deb and the kids climb inside, leaving Justin and me on our own for the first time in months – or so it seems.

I hear him release a breath next to me and turn to look at him. His skin is flushed, his cheeks rosy, in stark contrast to his hair, and the still pale skin. While I got some color in Italy, Justin’s still all porcelain. God, I want to touch him all over, all night long. 

Jerking my gaze away I wave another cab to us. While we climb inside, and after I give the driver directions, I glance at Justin, “You need to call your mom.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, pulling his cell from his pocket. “What about yours?” he wants to know while he punches in the number. 

I snort, and try to imagine Joanie falling off her chair because I’m calling her that late in the evening. 

“Hey, Mom. It’s me. … Yeah, we’re back. … NO!” There’s something like panic in his voice and I look at him sharply. “No, really.” He rolls his eyes and looks at me, “No, Mom, we don’t need you to help us with the kids tonight. They’re staying with Deb. … She came to the airport with Fiona. … Fiona, Brian’s lawyer. I think you’d like her. By the way, she’s a lot like you.” Startled I realize he’s right. Fiona in a few years could be a little like Jennifer Taylor. 

Justin laughs. “No. … A lot … the food was fantastic, and Luciana can cook …” Again he rolls his expressive blue eyes, making them sparkle in the dark. I have to suck in a sharp breath at the sight. “No, not better than you, just … different. Italian. She gave me this awesome recipe for Amarettini. I’m going to bake them for us as soon as possible. Okay … Love you, too.”

I feel a pang, but try to hide it when he ends the call and turns to me. “Mom, sends you her love.” I have to snort. Jennifer Taylor and I may not really hate each other anymore, but that’s it. Sure I gave her the money so she could pay off that asshole Hollis, but that makes us business acquaintances not family. She’ll probably never forgive me for molesting her virgin darling son. 

“What?” Justin gives me a puzzled look. “Mom really said, ‘give Brian my love’.”

“Yeah, sure. Next thing she’ll offer to adopt me.”

Again that expressive eye-roll. It makes me hard. God! I wonder if he knows about the power he has over me. It’s scary as hell. “You’re a little old for adoption.”

“That’s not true. You heard what Marco told us about those aristocrats who adopt people to give them a title.”

“Yeah, and they pay tons of money for it.” Justin shakes his head, “Can you believe spending a million dollars just to become a duke or something? People can be so sad.” He suddenly narrows his eyes, “Would you want to be adopted?”

“Can you blame me?” I ask right back. There were times, when I was a kid, when I wondered about having another set of parents. Sometimes I even played I was living in a different house, filled with love and laughter. “Can you see me and Joanie talking on the phone like that?” 

He seems to consider it for a moment, then sighs. “Not really, no. You’re right. But maybe you should still call her. Not today,” he adds quickly when he sees I want to protest, “but maybe tomorrow. She’s been making an effort.”

“Effort?” I snort. She’s my mother for God’s sake. The woman who gave birth to me. She should love me unconditionally, not let me beg for it, like a bird for small bread crumbs. Maybe she should just adopt Father Tom, the little hypocrite. They’d be perfect for each other. 

“Okay,” Justin sighs again and leans his head against my shoulder. I see the cab driver look at us through the rear mirror, his eyes narrowed for a moment, before he winks as he becomes aware of me watching him. I turn my attention back to Justin. 

“Okay – what?”

“Let’s drop the subject. We’re both tired and,” he leans closer, his lips at my ear, “really, really horny.”

I grin, “That we are.” I suck in a sharp breath when I feel his hand over my fly. “What are you doing?” I hiss.

“Giving you an advance bonus,” he whispers, nibbling at my earlobe. 

“Maybe it’s slipped your attention, but we’re in a cab, not in my car.” God, those lips, and teeth, and those talented fingers. I let my head fall back, and Justin moves closer, lying half-way on top of me now. Forget about cab drivers, Christ, forget about everything but this man who miracle over miracles is with me, despite my fucked up life. He really is the strongest and bravest person I know. 

“Adds spice,” he mumbles, his fingers wrapping around my cock, squeezing expertly. I bite back a groan. “Like the forbidden fruit.” His breath is whispery soft on my face, on my neck, before he sinks down, before I feel his tongue trace the vein on the underside of my shaft, slowly, ever so slowly, stopping here and there, taking a nip, then going on, until his lips close over the head, wet and hot. 

My eyes roll back, my body goes tight, excitement rippling through every pore, seizing every cell, every organ, filling even the smallest space with him. My world narrows down to just one blond boy – no man – his scent in me, over me, surrounding me, his touch mesmerizing me. Justin is right, the cab, the driver, the fact that we’re in public just adds to the thrill. 

He’s deep throating me now, the suction sweet and hot, and I know I’m not going to last long. I grab his hair, guiding him a little, adding pressure and then I feel myself spurting into his mouth, his tongue lapping at the juice, swallowing everything there is, before he lets my soft cock slip from his lips and looks up at me with shining eyes. Eyes that seem dark now, like the midnight sky. And, God, I love him. I don’t care if it’s scary, all I care is that he’s here, with me. 

I pull him up, against me, our foreheads touching. My breath is still a little erratic, my heart only calming down slowly. He kisses my neck, his fingers soft on my nape. It’s then that I become aware of a strange noise. Justin and I look at each other, both puzzled, before I suddenly know what it is. 

His face on the road, a smile playing around his lips, our cab driver is whistling softly.


End file.
